


PikUp

by J_Q



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Happy Ending, M/M, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Sad Ian Gallagher, Swearing/drinking/drugs/sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-14 14:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Q/pseuds/J_Q
Summary: It doesn't take Mickey Milkovich long to realize that giving Ian Gallagher a ride home has altered his life forever.





	1. NightRider

**Author's Note:**

> I'm testing out the whole "work in progress" way of writing a fic, but I have a lot of it written so the lag time between chapters shouldn't be long. 10 chapters is my best estimate.

LighteningMcQueen (1:16am): gonna get lucky with last fare

NightRider (1:17am): happy 4 u

LighteningMcQueen (1:17am): good man. Cover pick up @ Swallow?

NightRider (1:17am): was heading home. where r Dozer & Drag-U-La

LighteningMcQueen (1:18am): uptown

NightRider (1:18am): fine. 4 min away. Username?

LighteningMcQueen (1:18am): IG138

LighteningMcQueen (1:19am): tx ill send updates of my date

NightRider (1:19am): like fuck u will

LighteningMcQueen (1:20am): heart eye emoji

 

Mickey laughed at that. It irked the drivers that PikUp’s app was so basic that they couldn’t even offer their drivers an assortment of emojis to fully express how they fucking feel every minute. The only emoji that Mickey missed was the bird. That he would make regular use of. He punched IG138 into the search tool on the iPad Mini’s screen. The little twirling tire signalled that the PikUp app was locating that particular user and his/her location.

Although Mickey was pretty fucking sure it’d be a guy since the White Swallow was one of Boystown’s gayest fucking establishments. But you never knew for sure who or what was gonna get in your car, especially at 1:20am on a Saturday night.

The system located IG138 and alerted him that a cobalt blue Toyota Matrix driven by Mickey would be there in less than one minute. Mickey slapped the PikUp logo on the dash for further confirmation in case his fluorescent fucking car didn’t give away the fact he was there to pick the guy up. When his asshole of an old man was buried in the ground two years ago, he and his sister sold the old house and moved out of the neighborhood. Mickey had bought a car with some of their cash and been driving for a living ever since.

Slowly pulling up to the front door of the dive, he scanned for someone looking hopeful. He passed by an older couple who were holding hands and clearly life long queens based on the coordination of their outfits. That’d be the fucking day; he’d stick a Glock 19 in his mouth. Matching fucking outfits. Fuck.

They didn’t appear to be interested in a ride either, so Mickey snailed his way further along the curbside. A tall redhead was looking both lost and trashed, his phone held out in front of him like he was hoping it was the brains in the relationship. As Mickey stopped and slipped the car into park, the guy dropped his arm to his side and staggered a little at the movement.

Jesus, Mickey thought, I’d rather take the fairies than the drunk. He’d detailed the car's interior earlier that week and wasn’t keen on another asshole spewing his guts in his backseat. Driving idiots around the city wasn’t the worst job he’d ever had, but it did have its hazards.

He lowered the window and called out, “Hey, man, you IG138?”

The kid looked up at the sound of his voice and smiled a slightly lopsided grin. The sight tore a path through Mickey’s brain down to his heart and circled around his groin. Fuck.

“Hi,” the guy said still smiling. It was sweet and touched his eyes, which blinked slowly. His head tilted to the right to see Mickey better, but the movement appeared to make him dizzy enough to stagger a little. “Um, I’n a go home, k?” The words were slurred and he stumbled again, but still Mickey’s body reacted like they were curled up together in front of a fucking fire drinking wine and sharing their feelings. If he were even remotely capable of being honest with himself, he would have admitted that he melted when he heard the voice.

Swallowing around the dryness in his throat, he repeated, “You’re IG138?” Both hoping and dreading the answer was yes.

“Hey, Ian, baby, my car’s this way,” came a gravelly voice that sent a warning to the base of Mickey’s spine. He knew a douchebag when he heard one. “It’s okay, man. He’s with me,” the hairy, sweaty middle-aged creep threw at Mickey while wrapping his sausage arms around Ian.

“I’n a go home,” Red repeated, pushing his hands into the asshole’s chest but too uncoordinated to be effective.

“Ian, I’m gonna take you home. I promise.”

“Hey, Red, you want a ride home?” Mickey was starting to get agitated. He wanted to get involved in whatever this was like he wanted to help his sister give birth in a few weeks. Fuck, why’d he think of that right now? He wanted to scrape the thought from his brain with a filleting knife.  “Red?”

Again, Ian turned to Mickey and the unease that was on his face eased as their eyes met. The smile returned. “Home,” he repeated nodding.

“We’re good, I said. You can fuck off,” asshole growled at Mickey without looking at him. Mickey was sure of that cause if the guy had looked at him, he wouldn’t still be fucking standing there. Ian slipped a little on the edge of the curb and his hip smacked the passenger’s side door, so asshole took the opportunity to rub up against him, pining him to the car. “Don’t fucking play hard to get, Ian.”

Mickey laid on the horn for all he was worth. In fact, if he could, he’d a punched his hand through the steering column. Asshole pushed off of Ian in surprise, finally looking through the open window at the driver. What he saw was enough to send him on his merry way, but not without a parting shot at Ian.

“Still just a cheap whore. Can’t wash that off no matter how hard you try,” he spat and headed toward the Swallow’s front door throwing over his shoulder, “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

Red just remained where he was, pressed against the car. Mickey could see the tight fit of his jeans against his ass and the way his hands were shaking as he lifted his phone to his face. He mumbled to himself about home.

“Red?” Mickey spoke lightly not wanting to startle him. “Hey, you want a ride home?”

“Yeah, I’n a go home.”

“Get in.”

It took him three tries before his fingers grasped the door handle enough to get the door open. Then he had to lower himself into the seat, his long fucking legs filling the front seat. Closing the door proved to be simpler than opening it, but the seatbelt was too much for his drunken fingers to manage. He tried to grab it with his left hand but all the clutching in the world was not connecting his hand to the vinyl belt.

“Aye, lemme get it for you,” Mickey sighed, resting his elbow on the console and twisting so his left arm could reach across the redhead and snag the belt. Of course, this put the two of them in an intimate position, which Ian apparently found pleasurable if the dopey look on his face meant anything.

With their faces a few inches apart, Ian once again smeared Mickey with is adorable smile. Jesus, how could someone transform into some sort of fucking angel or some shit just by smiling? Seriously, Mickey had never even noticed someone’s smile before. Other than maybe the forced shit you get when you pick up your fast food.

“I’m Ian,” he whispered. “Who’re you?” His fingertip touched Mickey’s cheek.

“Your driver,” Mickey replied sitting properly in his seat. “We’re goin’ to Lakeland, yeah?”

Ian closed his eyes, resting his head against the seat but turned toward Mickey. “Mhm.”

Starting the timer on the PikUp app, he pulled into traffic but felt himself checking on the redhead every few seconds. Like he wanted to make sure that he was fucking comfortable or something. What the hell was the matter with him? He wasn’t the goddamn nursemaid to some 20-year-old drunken former twink. At least, he assumed the guy was only a former twink and not any deeper in that shit.

After yet another glance at Sleeping Beauty, Mickey was sure that it wouldn’t have been difficult for the guy to end up in countless sexual fucking incidents. He had the look that most guys were after: hot, sweet, welcoming. Like he was put here to provide pleasure. Just add booze. Or coke.

The Matrix hit a rut in the road and Ian jerked awake in a panic. And for the umpteenth time relaxed into a smile and soft eyes the moment he caught sight of Mickey. “Where ‘m I?” He had to wipe saliva from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand and yet looked like he was parched. Mickey looked at the half empty bottle of water in his cup holder. Well, the guy could either dehydrate or have a few of his germs in his mouth.

Like that didn’t lead his mind down a road he tried not to follow.

“Here,” he said and twisted the top off the water bottle, using his forearm to steer the car.

When Ian saw the bottle, he grabbed it and guzzled. “Thanks.”

“Sure, which place is yours?” he asked pointing out the window at the street of rundown apartment buildings.

Ian sat up a little in the seat, squinting and blinking his eyes. “Maybe tha’ one.”

“Maybe?”

“Mm, I jus’ moved in las’ week. Or maybe las’ month. Wha’ day is ‘t?”

“Nevermind. I got your address. Number 5400. There it is.” He pulled the Matrix up to a 4-story stucco building that had seen better days. About 50 years ago.

“That’s it?” Ian asked looking at it like he’d never seen it before.

“Well, that’s the address you entered in the app, man.”

“Oh.” He sounded so tired and unsure that Mickey was cursing out LighteningMcQueen for his fucking libido. Fucker should be the one dealing with this not him.

“You got a key?”

Ian swiveled in his seat to look at Mickey. “For what?”

“To get into your place, man.”

“Oh,” he smiled a little at his silliness and Mickey looked away grabbing his smokes from the console. He might as well enjoy one while Red figured out if he lived here or not. With the window down, he lit the cigarette and watched his fare pull his phone out of his jacket pocket then a set of keys. “I do.” He sounded pretty fucking proud of himself, which sent a tingle to Mickey’s lower belly.

“That’s great. While you’re at it, finalize the fare, would ya?” he pointed at the phone, which Ian looked at blankly. “Sign in to PikUp and hit the blue finalize button, ya?”

After some fumbling that was taken care of and then Ian laid his head against the seat again, closing his eyes. “Aye, Red, you’re home. Time to get outta my car.”

Once again he lurched forward in surprise, looking around. “Am I home?”

“I don’t fucking know, man. Are you? It says that’s your place.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” He smiled at Mickey and leaned forward like he was going to kiss him good-night. Mickey figured it was probably a good thing that the guy smelled like a brewery or those sweet fucking eyes would a sucked him in.

“The door’s that way, man.” Ian followed Mickey’s finger.

Pushing open the door, he half crawled, half fell out the door but managed to get to his feet. When he turned to shut the door, he leaned in a bit. “I’d a good time. Will y’ call me?”

Mickey chuckled. “Sure, Red, it’s been fucking swell.”

“Bye!” With a soft thud the door closed, and he was off.

Heading in the wrong fucking direction. For fuck sake.

Pulling the keys out of the ignition, he jumped from the car and clicked the lock button on the fob. “Ian, stop.” The redhead was nothing if not pliable in his hands. He stopped and waited for Mickey to catch up. “Um, I think your place is that way.”

“Okay.” He turned around on the sidewalk and started walking. Mickey watched him walk. All tight fucking jeans and shiny hair. Yup, a walking fucking billboard for sex. That kept going right past his sidewalk.

“Jesus.”

Hoofing it after him, Mickey took his elbow and turned him toward his apartment building. “This way Little Bo Peep.”

“Lost m’ sheep. Where’d t’ sheep go?”

Mickey smiled to himself. Until Ian bent over and vomited on the little patch of wannabe grass beside the front step. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ian.”

“S-sorry.” He sounded so dejected that Mickey placed a hand on his back. “I’m s-sorry.” Then he started to cry. Quiet but steady.

“Jesus. Where are your keys, man?” he asked holding out his hand. Ian opened his hand and tried to place the keys in Mickey’s outstretched one but missed by an inch. So Mickey retrieved them from the ground dangerously close to Ian’s stomach contents. “Jesus.”

“Are y’ religious?” he asked sniffling and wiping a tear from his cheek.

“Very.”

“Tha’s good.”

Mickey was swinging between annoyance, exasperation and warm fuzzies every few minutes. But the key fit in the outside door and he was able to pull it open. Ian nodded like he was impressed with the feat Mickey had performed. Well, based on how impossible it seemed to be for Ian, maybe it was impressive.

“You got it from here?” Mickey asked gesturing to the main floor and then the stairwell.

“Um?” Ian looked at the two options, confused but no longer crying.

“Oh Christ, do you know which fucking apartment is yours?” From the outside Mickey would guess that there were 4 units per story so 16 possible units. Was he gonna have to stick this fucking key in each lock until he found Ian’s place. Like fucking Cinderella’s goddamn slipper?

“Oh, yes, I’m nex’ door t’ the cat lady.” He looked so pleased with himself that Mickey couldn’t bring himself to scold him for the idiocy of that comment.

But then he felt like an idiot himself. “What’s your last name?”

“Gall’ger.”

Mickey pulled open the outside door and glanced at the list of names beside the buzzer.

2B Gallagher

“2B.”

“Or not to be.” Ian smiled dreamily. His earlier tears forgotten.

“Come on, Shakespeare. Let’s get you up the stairs.”

Ian tried to remember all the names of his neighbor cats while Mickey guided him toward 2B. “Oh ‘n Damien. He’s a nice kitty.”

“Fascinating, man.” Mickey slid the key into the deadbolt, and the door opened to a dark apartment. He found the light switch and illuminated the room. It was a tiny bachelor with a double bed in one corner and a sofa and table in the other. Dotting the place were boxes. So he really had just moved in.

Ian stood at the door looking around too. The tears were back and when he met Mickey’s eyes, he basically owned Mickey’s heart in that one moment. “Will y’ stay for a few minutes?”

“I, ah, gotta—” he pointed at the door, but his feet were rooted to the spot. “I should, you know--”

“Okay,” Ian said and moved out of the doorway toward the bed.

“You should lock up, man. After I leave.”

Ian just shrugged and kept walking toward the bed, placing one knee on the bare mattress and pulling his jacket awkwardly over his shoulder. It fell to the ground and he laid down, his face pushed into the pillow. Mickey just stood there, totally at a loss as to what to do.

“Fuck,” he walked forward and pulled Ian’s sneakers off. Then rolled the corner of the comforter around him. In the tiny kitchen he found a glass and filled it with water, that was the best he could do. It bothered him that he couldn’t lock the door, but figured the odds were he’d be safe.

Okay, Milkovich, get a grip. He left the water and keys on the nightstand and pulled the door closed behind him. Not looking back at the troubled redhead.


	2. That Thing

NightRider (11:15pm) to DriveGroup1: calls from IG138 R mine FYI

BullDozer (11:16pm): friend?

LighteningMcQueen (11:16pm): hot guy.

Drag-U-la (11:16pm): hot guy? IG138 mine!

LighteningMcQueen (11:17pm): arm wrestle NR for him

Drag-U-la (11:17pm): down for that!

NightRider (11:17pm): ha…ha

BullDozer (11:18pm): where r all hot chicks

NightRider (11:18pm): in Lightening’s clutches

LighteningMcQueen (11:18pm): prefer to call it my snare

NightRider (11:19pm): I prefer not to think bout it

Drag-U-la (11:19pm): hey Mick whats baby status?

NightRider (11:19pm): no baby yet

Drag-U-la (11:20pm): your sister doing ok?

NightRider (11:20pm): think so

LighteningMcQueen (11:20pm): drag says your gonna help out at birth

BullDozer (11:21pm): your gonna be there? crazy shit

Drag-U-la (11:21pm): don’t listen to these assholes. Listen to me.

BullDozer (11:21pm): you don’t wanna see that!

Drag-U-la (11:23pm): And that is why woman were invented! to think for men

NightRider (11:23pm): ain’t got much choice.

Drag-U-la (11:24pm): You’ll do gr8

NightRider (11:24pm): sure                                                 

BullDozer (11:25pm): enough baby talk. whos DeathProof?

Drag-U-la (11:25pm): noob joining our DriveGroup

LighteningMcQueen (11:26pm): what do we know bout him

Drag-U-la (11:26pm): drove a hearse for like 20yrs

NightRider (11:26pm): clever handle

 

Mickey drove the streets of Chicago keeping his fares as close to Boystown as possible, so he would be available to pick up Ian again. He’d tried to talk himself out of it all night, but his fingers had opened a group chat with the other Saturday night drivers in his group. He knew they’d eat up the opportunity to give him shit over a crush, but they’d find something to razz him about no matter what. That’s what they did: razz each other. They’d get around to giving it to the new guy eventually, although how you razzed a guy who’d driven a hearse for years was beyond him. Maybe just having living passengers was gonna be enough of a shock for the guy.

He spent the next two hours alternating between thinking about switching over to driving a hearse and gathering intel for his memoirs that he was gonna call shit you see and hear driving people around. Tonight’s weirdos included a couple discussing using Craigslist to find a husband for their daughter and a guy with a ham in his backpack. Mickey had declined the offer to share it, but he glanced at his dinner of cold Pop Tarts and figured maybe the guy was on to something.

As he was pulling away from a sketchy looking bungalow, he got the alert. IG138 requested pick up at White Swallow. Once again, Mickey was half glad and have disappointed to get the request. Glad cause he’d done not much but think about the hopeless redhead all week. Disappointed cause he figured that risky drunken behavior was a thing for the guy.

Whatever the case, Mickey felt some sort of weird fucking compulsion to make sure he got home safe. Like he hadn’t been getting home safe without Mickey’s help up to this point in his life. But that’s what kept niggling at his fucking lobes: had he always gotten home safe? Mickey figured the answer was no. Hearing that guy tell Ian he’d see him next Saturday had plagued him all week. Not like it was out of his way to check things out, he told himself. He wasn’t making a fucking lifelong commitment.

So, for better or worse, six minutes later he pulled up to the same spot he’d stopped a week earlier. Quite a few dudes were milling around the bar’s entrance this time, but Ian stood out like a fucking neon sign. Despite being nearly comatose, he demanded all the attention. Well, all of Mickey’s anyway. It was like some sort of goddamn homing device was implanted in his brain or maybe some where a little lower.

His eyes drifted along the sidewalk looking for the asshole from last week. Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, he hoped to see the hairy fucker cause he felt like he needed another, firmer warning than the one he got last week. But he didn’t seem to be lurking around the area.

Disappointed he returned his attention to Ian and the large musclebound Asian guy with his arm around Ian’s shoulders. Despite the heavy leather jacket, Mickey could see biceps trying to break through the material. Well, fuck. How far was he willing to go to get Ian home safe?

One of these times, Mickey was gonna regret his bloody decisions. But he rolled the passenger window down and shouted, “I’m Ian’s ride.”

The Asian dude nodded and corralled Ian to the Matrix. The two of them got in the backseat together, Ian draped over the guy’s shoulder. “You got his address?” he asked Mickey.

“Ya, he okay?” Mickey asked as their eyes met in the rearview mirror.

“Sure.” His handsome features softened as he looked down at Ian. Fuckin’ know the feeling, dude. “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve escorted him home. He makes a habit of this.”

That didn’t sit well in Mickey’s stomach or his jaw. He clamped his lips together to stop from asking more questions. None a his fucking business anyway. Plus why would he want to get anymore involved with the redheaded train wreck than he already was?

“Lin?” Ian opened his eyes a little and stared at the guy beside him. “You comin’ home w’ me?”

“Sure.”

“You’ll stay?”

“Sure. Too late for me to head to my place anyway.”

So they weren’t an official couple, Mickey thought, but maybe that made things worse in some way. He wasn’t sure. This whole thing was un-fucking-comfortable as hell. While he regretted knowing what Ian would be doing tonight, he figured it was easier knowing that than wondering if he was being molested by some middle-aged meatball.

“Fuck,” Ian moaned, his head rolling back along the seat. “Gotta stop this.”

“Gotta quit working there, Ian,” Lin replied. “We did it when we were young and desperate, but it isn’t fun anymore. Time to get out completely.”

“Money,” Ian replied wearily.

“No amount of money is worth this,” he sniffed and waved his hand in Ian’s general direction. “Besides, you know you shouldn’t be drinking at all, let alone a lot and regularly.”

“Oh, god, I’m gonna be sick,” Ian announced. Mickey practically ran over the curb to get pulled into an empty tire shop parking lot. Ian had the door open before he came to a complete stop. Hanging out the side of the car, Ian gagged and emptied his stomach. Again. Mickey handed his bottle of water to Ian. Again.

After cleaning himself up, Ian pulled the door closed and tried to hand Mickey back his bottle of water. Looking in the rearview mirror, he shook his head and chuckled as he watched realization flash in Ian’s eyes.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he sorta smiled back as their eyes held a moment. Mickey watched the edges of those green eyes crinkle and some of the sparkle return. Then that thing happened between them again. The thing that Mickey hadn’t been able to get off his mind all week. The thing that was the reason he was here tonight. The thing that felt like someone had set a match to something that was waiting under the surface of his skin.

Then Ian dropped his eyes and rested his head along the backseat again. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t gotta be sorry, man,” Mickey replied. “As long as you hit the street and not my seats.”

“Deal,” Ian’s voice sounded strained.

“Ian,” Lin began turning to face him. “This is your body telling you to stop this shit. You’re making yourself sick.”

Ian rolled his head along the seat until his forehead pressed into Lin’s shoulder. Mickey noted that the fucking thing was big enough to bear the weight of all of Ian’s troubles. Why wasn’t he demanding that Ian stop this bullshit? No fucking way would he allow Ian to go back to work there.

“Okay, I’ll try not to drink next weekend.”

“That doesn’t mean switching to coke either, Ian. You know I can’t be here every Saturday night.”

Mickey heard a groan from the backseat. Christ, drugs too. Okay, it was good that he knew Ian had this boyfriend or whatever the hell this guy was. Enough now. He’d tell the group that he wasn’t taking any more calls from IG138. Drag could pick him up. She’d make sure he got home. Mickey ignored the clenching in his chest.

The Matrix pulled to a stop in front of #5400, and Lin swiped into Ian’s phone to complete the transaction, thanked Mickey and began the process of helping Ian out of the car.

“I finally got sheets f’ the bed,” Ian muttered swinging his legs out the door.

Lin took Ian’s hand and pulled him forward. “That’s great. I want a good night’s sleep.” Mickey thought maybe a little bit of his heart chipped off in that moment. But figured he hadn’t been using it until he’d met the guy so he might as well give him part of it. He could only see the fucking thing being a pain in his ass anyway.

“I don’t mind sleep’n on the sofa cause it means yer there,” Ian replied, finally out of the vehicle.

“You bet your ass I get the bed, Ian. Colin is gonna be pissed that I’m not coming home tonight, and you know what a bitch he can be,” Lin added shutting the door behind Ian.

Despite his plan to end this crazy fucking collision course he was on, Mickey smiled a little at that, and he watched them move away from the car. After a couple of steps though, Ian stopped and turned toward the gently humming car. Their eyes met through the windshield and Ian lifted his hand. Mickey nodded slightly, and his hand lifted in response. So did his heart.


	3. Good Shirt

NightRider (6:16pm): taking night off

NightRider (6:16pm): deathproof will cover me

Drag-U-la (6:18pm): BABY???

NightRider (6:19pm): nah, got shit 2do

LighteningMcQueen (6:20pm): IG138 shit?

NightRider (6:20pm): NOYFB right?

Drag-U-la (6:20pm): OMG

BullDozer (6:21): OMG heart emoji

NightRider (6:21pm): F U bird emoji

Drag-U-la (6:22pm): go get your man Mick!

LighteningMcQueen (6:22pm): txt if u need a ride ;)

 

After a week of indecision, Mickey finally decided to see for himself what Ian did on Saturday night at the White Swallow. He had no idea where Ian worked other than this weekend shift, but he didn’t request rides any other night. Mickey had checked his account. He’d been getting Saturday night rides for a couple months.

So here he was pawing through all his clothes trying to find something that said: look at me but not too hard. Dark, fitted jeans and plaid button down. Not like he had a lot to choose from. He didn’t usually worry too much about how he dressed as when he very occasionally traveled to a gay bar to get laid, it didn’t take much effort—to find someone or to take care of business. But he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to the White Swallow to get laid; he was going there to—what? Fucking stalk some guy? Nah, protect some guy. Who didn’t ask him to. Fuck.

“Where the fuck you going? Got your fancy shirt on,” Mandy laughed from the sofa as he entered the living room, looking for his phone. “I’d do ya.”

“Gross,” he replied scrunching up his face. He came to stand over her avoiding looking at the big belly poking out from her checkered housecoat. “You gonna be okay? I got my phone and I’ll make sure to check it all night.”

“I’m fine. Still got a few weeks left, stop worrying.” She laid the _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ book she was reading across the top of her belly like the fucking table it had become. He'd seen her set bowls, cups, remote controls and the iPad on there without batting an eye.

“Babies can come early. You did, scrawny crier that ruined my fucking life,” he grumbled at her, checking his phone for messages but smiling the whole time. “I was living the dream until you came along.”

“Yeah, I bet those two years were fucking amazing.”

“You have no idea,” he agreed. Then turned serious as he met her eyes. “Doc says you gotta take it easy.”

“Man, I got you pussy whipped bad.”

“You wish, bitch.”

They smirked at each other, and Mandy lifted a bare toe to lightly kick her brother in the ass as he bent over the coffee table to pick up car keys, wallet, and smokes. “Hey. You got someone in mind?”

She squinted at him. “Just got this look about you. Like distracted or something.” When he hesitated, she squealed in delight but suddenly grabbed the book off her belly. “Oh, feel it. Quick!” She placed his hand over the thin material of her t-shirt where the housecoat had fallen open.

“Jesus,” Mickey grimaced pulling his hand away when her ball of a stomach moved. Then immediately put his hand back. “That alien shit hurt?”

“Only when it lands on a rib.”

“Fuck, there’s a fucking kid in there.”

“Yeah, unless the pregnancy test was wrong. Maybe I should take another test to be sure,” she smiled at his big-eyed stare. “Just sinking in, is it?”

“Are we gonna be able to do this shit? Raise a rugrat?”

She shrugged. “I fucking hope so.”

“Okay, yeah, we can. Fucking assholes all over the world manage to do it.”

“Like Terry?”

“Fuck him. And fuck you for even comparing him to us.”

Another smile. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“What’d I say about that thank you shit? Kenyatta is a motherfucker and I shoulda fucked him up sooner,” Mickey flapped his hand at her feeling agitated again over the way his sister got knocked up by such a prick. “He can rot in prison. He’ll never know about that baby.”

He shot her a look to see if she was gonna argue. Sometimes she got bitchy and beat up on herself and he had to watch doubt creep over her. “Right, Mandy?”

“So you’re my husband now?” She stared right back at him.

“Fucking right. And I’m that baby’s daddy uncle.”

She broke into a smile and kicked him in the hip again. “Get outta here, or I’m gonna make you rub my feet.” As he opened the apartment door, Mandy added, “You can do that tomorrow morning after you bring me breakfast.”

When he scowled at her, she mouthed “pussy whipped” and picked up her book dismissing him.

 

 

Mickey spent the evening nursing a couple of beers and watching Ian shake his ass at anything with two legs. The techno dance music bullshit may have been making him more irritable than usual and the long line of useless pieces of skin who hovered around the dancers may have been making him more homicidal than usual. He’d arrived just as the evening was getting underway, but Ian and a handful of other dancers had already been up on their little stages moving their bodies to the beat pounding around them.

Objectively, maybe these guys were hot or whatever, but Mickey couldn’t separate the sad look in Ian’s eyes from the sight before him. It was all tangled up for him and he felt dirty looking at his body, which was lean and fit and youthful and moving fucking seductively. He could see the muscles in his chest and abs working to keep up with the music, and he didn’t want to think about what he could see outlined in the tiny piece of material covering his fucking junk.

All this thinking he was doing made him want to drink more, but he couldn’t afford to get drunk sitting here all night drooling over the first real crush he’d ever had. His plan was to give Ian a ride home, so he needed to be sober. However, that obviously wasn’t Ian’s plan. Mickey watched as he proceeded to get tipsy off a one beer. What the hell? Was he on something too? Ian had appeared sober when he arrived. Sober and distant. The fucking guys in the place must be blind if they thought he was enjoying himself. Mickey could see the distaste written all over his face.

But apparently all they cared about was that he was practically naked and gyrating his hips. He bit the inside of his cheek and inhaled. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea that he was here. He had no right to storm onto the dance floor and start throwing punches. But fuck. This shit was painful to watch.

About an hour after Mickey had arrived, Ian had jumped down from his little stage and marched over to the bar where he slammed half a glass of draft. He’d returned to his spot in the gong show this place was and Mickey could see his movements become looser, a little less coordinated. No way a guy his size could get that wasted off half a beer.

He tried to recall what he’d overheard in the car between Ian and his buddy. That Ian shouldn’t be drinking. His body was rebelling on him. Mickey rubbed his forehead to relieve some of the tension forming there. Maybe he should just stop thinking for fucking minute. He’d gotten pretty good at it driving for hours every day. So he sat and shot daggers at random men.

When he’d arrived and carried his bottles of Bud to a little round table close enough to the redhead to keep an eye on him but not close enough to be noticed, he’d planned to stay under the radar until the end of the evening. At least that’s what he’d planned until, part way through the evening, that very redhead was standing directly in front of his table. Smiling a little and for the first time tonight, Mickey could see it was sincere.

The thing was back in full force trying to strangle Mickey. It tried to steal his breath and slammed his heart into his ribcage. Worst of all, it seemed to wipe out his ability to communicate.

“Hey,” Ian said.

“Um,” Mickey sputtered in surprise and semi paralysis. “Hey.”

“Saw ya watchin’ me all night,” he slurred the words a little but didn’t seem drunk. It was a new experience for Mickey to meet a mostly sober Ian.

“I, um—” But he was still struggling for his chill.

“It’s kinda the point, right?” he smiled and cocked his golden hip a little. “Otherwise, why would I be wearing this?” 

“I don’t fucking know why you’re wearing it to begin with. Guys get off on that shit?” he blurted out.

Ian laughed and rolled his eyes. “Guys aren’t in to subtle. Probably cause it shows off everything.”

“I noticed.”

“I guess the outfit is working then.”

Mickey couldn’t stop himself from looking. His eyes flicked to the golden shorts and back up to Ian’s face, but Ian’s eyes were on his mouth. Knowing this caused Mickey’s mouth to go dry and he swallowed and moistened his lips with his tongue. A compulsive habit he knew he had.

He saw Ian’s chest moving faster than it had been when he first arrived at Mickey’s table. Fuck, he’d kill to know what he was thinking.

“I’m going on a break right now. Out back for a smoke,” he said tipping his head toward the rear exit sign.

Well, Mickey thought, I’m here to meet this guy. “You want company?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, with the smile that smashed Mickey’s defenses to shit. “I gotta throw some clothes on. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

Mickey was part way through a smoke when Ian joined him wearing sweats and a hoodie. They were alone in the alley and the crisp late spring air was refreshing after the clammy heat of the bar.

Ian slipped a cigarette between his lips and Mickey brought his lighter up to the tip. As Ian inhaled, they looked at each other. “Have we met?” Ian cocked his head thoughtfully. “I’d never forget those eyes.”

Before Mickey could answer, a small group of men exited the backdoor, talking and joking loudly. A few of them greeted Ian with smiles and, in Mickey’s mind, leers. The oldest guy in the group stepped toward Ian. “What are you doing after you shift? We got a little party planned and need some entertainment.”

“Uh, thanks, but I gotta get home.”

“We’ll make it worth your while.”

Ian shook his head and pulled into himself. The earlier lightness hidden away again, which pissed Mickey off. “He’s got plans, man.” He took a small step forward and lifted his eyebrows like exclamation marks.

“Why don’t you both come?” The guy tried smiling at Mickey to soften his offer.

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here?”

“Tough guy, huh? We like it a little rough.”

“I really fucking hate having to repeat myself. I usually let my fists do it for me.”

With the message received, they left Mickey alone with Ian again. He sucked harshly on his smoke before flicking it across the alley. Shrugging his shoulders back, he turned fully to Ian. “I’m Mickey,” he said hoping to bring him back from wherever he went.

“Ian.”

An awkward silence spread out between them. Mickey was shit at small talk and Ian seemed to regret his decision to invite him out for his break. He probably thought Mickey only wanted in his pants. Well, he did want that, but he wanted something else first. It was just that he wasn’t sure what that was exactly. To see him smile. At Mickey. To wrap his fucking arms around him. Jesus. Mandy was right that he was whipped, by a redhead he barely even knew.

“Have you worked here long?”

“Yeah,” Ian replied, inhaling and turning slightly away from Mickey. “Five years.”

“Jesus, how the fuck old are you?”

“21.”

“Jesus,” he replied quietly, but his eyes never left Ian’s face.

“I didn’t know. I was young, you know,” Ian explained holding Mickey’s eye now. “It’s just hard to make this kind a money anywhere else. I’m just here one night a week now.”

“Okay.”

“Just the guys sometimes, ya know.”

“Yeah.”

“I gotta get back inside.”

Mickey reached around him and pulled the door open. Ian looked down at his hand on the door handle then up to his face. A trace of the smile was back. Mickey felt a release in his chest.

He spent the rest of the night at his table monitoring Ian’s movements, holding himself back from plucking out eyeballs and breaking fingers. As long as Ian was just eye candy, he would stay seated, but if anyone thought about touching him, Mickey wasn’t sure he’d remain in his seat. The bouncers didn’t appear to be giving the occasional handsy asshole much attention.

Ian was aware of him. His eyes strayed to Mickey every few minutes, and even though his body was rolling and moving to the dance music, when he looked at Mickey, all he saw was sweetness. Like hiding in this sexy temptation was a sad fucking kid who wanted to be loved for something other than his body.

But what Mickey really noticed was that Ian stopped drinking. By the close of the evening as the music ended, he hadn’t had another drink. He jumped down from his tiny stage yet again and moved across the dance floor to Mickey, who had sat in building anticipation wondering what was gonna happen when the bar closed.

 “You need a ride?” Mickey asked, finding his voice and a reason for them to continue the evening together. “I got my car here.”

Ian pressed his lips together in a contented smile and nodded. “I’ll get changed real quick.”


	4. Grape Slurpees

LighteningMcQueen (9:20pm): hows your bf

BullDozer (9:20pm): any smooching yet

Drag-U-la (9:20pm): OMG leave him alone assholes

 

BullDozer (11:31): mick we want details!

LighteningMcQueen (11:31pm): ya boring af tonight

Drag-U-la (11:33pm): ok it is boring af. Details welcome

 

LighteningMcQueen (11:57pm): hes ignoring us

BullDozer (11:57pm): thirsty gonna stop by Swallow for beer…….

NightRider (11:58pm): wanna die?

BullDozer (11:58pm): hahahahahaha

 

While Ian changed out of his ridiculous shorts, Mickey checked his messages. Nothing new from the drive group but he’d enjoyed their comradery throughout the night. He’d never really had a crew before, well, a crew who wasn’t into illegal activities and sponsored by his father. The fact that they had forged this bond via text make things easier for Mickey. He felt a little freer to be himself. In fact, it was pretty early in his days working for PikUp that he’d come out of that damn closet. Dozer and Lightening had been discussing tit size as though it were a scientific principle, and Drag had endured it for a bit then told them to shut the fuck up. They had engaged Mickey in their defense, but he had found himself typing the words: I’m gay no tits required.

He’d hit send and bit his lip waiting. Dozer had gleefully pointed out that size always matters. In all things. Drag had sent  “sad face emoji” and agreed that he had a point and they had moved on. Since then they razzed him in the same way they did each other.

He sent them a final message of the night:

NightRider (1:18am): we eloped

He laughed and shut down his PikUp app but not before he imagined them doing that very thing. Man, he needed to get a fucking grip. It was a little early to imagine living happily ever after with Ian, Mandy and the baby alien.

Which lead him to fretting about Mandy for the hundredth time tonight. She hadn’t sent him any urgent messages, but he’d checked in pretty much every hour and she’d sent him pictures of foot rubs and finally one of her giant belly up-close, so he’d taken the hint and stopped bugging her.

Eventually, Ian emerged dressed in jeans and the same hoodie, looking shyly in Mickey’s direction. Wordlessly, they made their way outside and Mickey had a smoke lit by the time the night air hit them. He offered it to Ian who took it and placed it between his lips. As he inhaled, Mickey breathed in deeply too. It was like he was aware of every molecule that belonged to Ian when he was around him. Fuck, he wanted their molecules to fucking merge.

Instead, he hit the button on his key fob and the Matrix came to life blinking and beeping at them. Moving around to the driver’s side, he didn’t notice Ian stop a few feet from the car until he had his door open already.

Ian was staring at the car and frowning. “I know this car,” he said and looked at Mickey. “I know you. I thought I did but I couldn’t place it.”

Mickey looked at Ian across the top of the car. “Yeah, I, um—”

“I’ve been in this car,” he muttered to himself then locked eyes with Mickey. “With you.”

Nodding, Mickey let out a huff of breath. “I drive for PikUp.”

“That’s you? You got me home and left water beside my bed?”

“I’m not like some stalker or something, man.”

“No? What are you then?”

“Just. Fucking interested.”

Ian stepped forward, so he could open the passenger’s door. “Well, I guess I don’t need to give you directions to my place.” He disappeared from Mickey’s view and his door shut softly. Ignoring the irregular beating of his heart, he also lowered himself into the little car.

Firing up the engine, his eyes shifted nervously then settled on Ian. He was gonna have to look at him at some point. “I need help with my seatbelt,” the redhead smiled victoriously.

It took Mickey a moment for that to sink in. “You remember?”

“Not immediately and not everything but yeah I recognized you part way through the night,” he confirmed. “When you opened the backdoor for me at the club. That wasn’t the first time you opened a door for me.”

And this is when Mickey decided to blush. He felt like the act of opening a door gave away exactly how he was feeling.

But Ian had looked away. “I must a been a nightmare fare. Sorry.”

“You must a never driven for a living. Not even close, man.”

“Still. You went above and beyond.” The car was suddenly too small for Mickey cause the whole fucking thing was filled with Ian. “Thank you for getting me home.”

“Sure.”

“You did more than most people would.”

God, fuck. Mickey was dying here. His face was hot now from pleasure too.

“My seatbelt?” Ian asked pushing back into his seat and moving his arms in toward his body.

Ian shrugged but didn’t reach for his belt and Mickey’s heart started that weird beating again. He might fucking die from spending time with this guy. But he figured if he did die from reaching across the seat, it’d be a good way to fucking go.

So with some deja vu accompanying him, he rested his elbow on the console and reached his left arm around until he could grasp the smooth seatbelt.

Their breaths mingled, and Mickey could see that Ian’s eyes had almost equal parts brown as green. They were so close that all Mickey would have to do was tilt his head and he’d be touching Ian in a way he’d thought a lot about the last two weeks.

“Hi,” Ian whispered looking again at Mickey’s mouth. Like a fucking invitation.

And suddenly the lyrics from Bitch by the Plastiscines filled the car and Mickey nearly jumped out of his skin.

_I’m a bitch when I brush my teeth_

_I’m a bitch walking down the street_

“Jesus,” Mickey grumbled fumbling around for his phone. “What!” he spat into it.

“Oh my god, you annoy me all night and when I fucking need you, you ignore my goddamn texts. And don’t fucking snap at me, asshole.”

“What? What’s happening? Shit!” Mickey nearly dropped the phone when his hands started shaking. He wasn’t fucking ready for this. He could see Ian sit up and look at him with concern.

“I’m hungry,” she said expectantly.

“You’re—hungry?”

“Yeah, can you bring me a corndog?”

“A corndog?” All he could do was repeat what she was saying cause his brain and his body were still a frame behind what was actually happening. But eventually they all caught up with each other. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I can’t even come up with fucking words.”

“No problem. The only one you need is Yes. See you soon, husband,” she shouted into the phone and ended the call with a cackle.

“Holy shit,” he said dropping the phone into the cup holder and resting his head against the seat. Deep breaths. He wasn’t made for this emotional shit. Between Ian and Mandy he was fucking losing his mind.

“Husband?” Ian said coolly. “Look I get some guys can’t come out but I’m not into that kind of thing okay?” His hand reached for the door handle.

“It’s my fucking sister. We live together and she’s about to pop out some no good piece of shit’s baby and I’m like her—” he waved his hand around looking for the word.

“Husband?” Ian offered.

They smiled at each other and Mickey let out a laugh that released the tension in his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess since she’s calling me at fuck you o’clock in the morning to bring a goddamn corndog home with me.”

“I could go for a corndog. Oh, and a grape slurpee,” Ian announced clapping his hands together. “Let’s hit a 7/11.”

“Well. Buckle up then.”

The mood in the car shot from lighthearted to electrified in a split second. But Ian reached for his belt and clicked it into place. “Let’s ride. I’m dying to get my mouth around a corndog.”

And just like that the mood shot back to lighthearted as they laughed their way to the nearest 7/11.

 

“Grape is where it's at.”

“Sounds gross.”

“Live a little,” Ian challenged taking the slurpee cup from his hand and holding it under the spout. Mickey watched it fill with purple shit, but he was incapable of disappointing this guy. He’d drink it and he’d love it. Once the cup was full, Ian brought the straw to Mickey’s lips. “Taste.”

Wrapping his lips around the straw, he gave it a good suck. His eyes watered as the freezing hit his mouth and throat. Ian was watching him closely like he really cared about Mickey’s opinion about his fucking slurpee preferences.

“Shit that’s fucking cold, man.”

“When’s the last time you had a slurpee?”

“No idea.”

“Are you a slurpee virgin?”

“No, I’m not a fucking virgin. I had a slurpee before.”

“But not a grape one.”

“No, not a grape one.”

“So you’re a grape slurpee virgin.”

Again Mickey felt like he could laugh out loud. New for him. “You got me there.”

Satisfied, Ian trotted over to the corndog selection. They stood, under the harsh stores lights, staring at the less than appetizing choices. “So this is what pregnant women crave?” Ian asked.

“You’d be surprised, man. It’s kinda frightening.”

After some back ‘n forth, Mickey won the battle to pay for their food and a couple packs of smokes, then they headed outside and Ian sat down on the edge of the curb next to the Matrix. He set his cup down and handed his corndog to Mickey, so he could open a packet of mustard and drizzle it over the tops of their dogs.

“Fancy,” Mickey commented passing Ian his corndog.

“Only the best for my—” he stopped and they looked at each other. Mickey knew his face was screaming: your what? Ian took a big bite of his corndog and looked away but mumbled around his food. “My date.”

Their knees were so close to each other that Mickey pushed his into Ian’s and Ian pushed back. They ate in silence for a moment as warmth radiated up Mickey’s thigh. He wouldn’t be able to remember if he liked corndogs or not. But he loved the hell out of grape slurpees.


	5. Dating101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed a typo in the Chapter number. Fixed it. Winky emoji

LighteningMcQueen (9:56pm): you guys hear bout deathproof

BullDozer (9:56pm): no what

LighteningMcQueen (9:57pm): got in an accident.

NightRider (9:57pm): hurt?

LighteningMcQueen (9:57pm): no

Drag-U-la (9:58pm) what happened

LighteningMcQueen (9:58pm): I guess he got spooked when his passenger started talking 2 him

NightRider (9:59pm): is that a joke man?

LighteningMcQueen (9:59pm): is it funny?

NightRider (10:00pm): what do u think?

BullDozer (10:00pm): I think its funny

LighteningMcQueen (10:01pm): maybe i’ll see if he thinks its funny

Drag-U-la (10:01pm): lets invite him 2 Obrien’s tonight

 

An incoming text message notification appeared at the top of Mickey’s phone screen, so he toggled over to it.

 _Ian_.

He sat up on his bed, the group chat forgotten. He and Ian had exchanged numbers outside Ian’s building on Saturday night and hadn’t been in touch since. Two full days of Mickey thinking about grape slurpees and what to do next.

He’d returned home to find Mandy half asleep where he’d left her earlier that evening, the flickering light of the tv bouncing off the apartment walls. She’d waved him over and grabbed the cold corndog from his hand. After taking a bite and deeming it acceptable, she used that same foot to push him down to the sofa.

“I ain’t rubbing your feet, so get that shit outta your head.”

“You’re shit at it anyway. So tell me about your night,” she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t get laid, that’s obvious. But something happened. Spill it.”

When he remained silent, she started to whine. “Come on! I’m cooped up here and bored to fucking death. Throw me a bone. I can only watch so much Real Housewives.” Her fucking foot started pumping the side of Mickey’s knee. Exactly where it had pushed into Ian’s knee. He smiled down at it.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” she squealed.

“What the hell? You are literally going to give me a heart attack. You want this baby to be an orphan?” he griped pushing her foot away and scowling when she immediately poked him in the rib with it.

“What? Why would it be an orphan? I’d still be here.”

“Cause I’m gonna kill you if you keep yelling at me, woman.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“What subject?”

“You got a fucking crush or something. Who the fuck is he?” she asked giving him her best assessing look, which managed to scare him just a little.

“I’m going to bed.” And he got up to prove his point.

“Sleep tight, brother. But we both know I’m gonna find out.”

He shut his bedroom door on that.

Of course, she’d found out. More or less. The next fucking day. She’d frowned a bit at the telling asking a few questions. She had the same thoughts as Mickey but concluded that this was something if it had shaken her brother out of his self-imposed bachelor status. But he refused to ask her what to do. She’d love to run this show and tell him how to go about dating someone.

What he ended up doing was nothing. Maybe waiting a couple days would be good. He could cool his hormones and think straight. But one short text from Ian and nothing was cool.

Ian (10:01pm): U working? I need a ride

No he wasn’t working, he had Mondays and Tuesdays off. But he was about to be driving.

Mickey (10:04pm): where/when

Ian (10:05pm): 10:30? The old Empire theatre?

Mickey (10:05pm): I know it. OMW

Ian (10:05pm): :)

Mickey looked down at his old sweats. Shit, he needed to change and like freshen up or some shit. After a few minutes in the bathroom gargling and patting his hair randomly, he returned to his room and pulled on a pair of newer jeans. They fit his ass like a second skin.

“Mandy,” he bellowed.

“What?” she bellowed back.

“Why you gotta put my jeans in the dryer?” he asked walking out to the living room where she was sprawled in her usual position.

“Cause your pants are too baggy. No one wants to see a guy in baggy jeans. Turn around,” she said twirling her finger.

“What the fuck? No.”

“Let me see your ass,” she repeated lifting her eyebrows Milkovich style.

“Holy shit, you need to get out of this apartment. I ain’t your real husband.”

He turned around to return to his room for a different shirt and she catcalled him all the way. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout Mick. Ian is gonna blow his load when he sees that.”

“I can’t hear you,” he sing-songed. But he lifted to his tiptoes to see his ass in the mirror attached to his dresser. Yeah, it was alright. Couldn’t hurt to show off what he’s got. With that thought, he grabbed a sleeveless hoodie.

Stopping in the living room for his phone and whatnot, Mandy smirked at him. The smirk turned into a full-on smile and the usual cackling laughter. “Nice shirt,” she said and licked the spoon from what looked like a bowl of cookie dough. “Mwrah.”

 

Mickey saw the line up of movie posters as he made his way along the now quiet street. The Empire played only older movies and it looked like tonight’s feature was Batman. Was Ian out at the movies tonight? Alone? Damn, why didn’t Mickey think to invite him to a movie? That’s like Dating101 shit.

He pulled the Matrix over to the curb in front of the ticket booth and immediately the ticket booth door opened and Ian stepped out. He locked up behind himself and made his way toward Mickey, who was glad he’d worn his good jeans cause Ian made jeans something that he now had a real fucking appreciation for.

“Hi,” Ian said as he folded his legs into the narrow space of the car. “Sorry, I didn’t know how to request you specifically from the app.”

“That’s okay, man, I’m not actually working tonight anyway.”

“What? Oh! I don’t know why I assumed you would be. Did I interrupt anything?”

“Just my sister eating her weight in cookie dough,” he snarked. “Well, she’s a fucking stick so maybe that’s a good thing.”

Ian smiled. “I would love to meet her. I mean, you know, cause she sounds like a character.”

Awkwardness. Cause Mickey would love for him to meet her too as it would mean that they meant something to each other and they’d be past this fucking awkward stage. But he could see Mandy opening her trap, probably pull out baby pictures of Mickey in a diaper drooling all over himself. No way was he letting that shit happen anytime soon.

“If I ever do, I’ll remember to bring corndogs to win her over.”

“Good fucking plan,” he nodded in agreement. Who was he kidding? If Ian said, let’s go meet your sister, he’d endure whatever humiliation she dished out.

“So does your sister know if she’s having a boy or a girl?”

“Nah, the kid was being an asshole during the ultrasound, hiding the goods.”

Ian seemed to enjoy that cause he laughed then pressed his lips together as he gave Mickey that look that’s been making him crazy since the first time he drove him home. Like Mickey was special or something.

“So where to?” Mickey asked when he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Home?”

“Right.” He pulled back onto the street. “You work at Empire?”

“A few nights a week. I’m trying, you know, to get out of the line of work I’ve been in. But it’s tough when you have no education or any real experience.”

“Yeah, I know about that, man.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I was basically raised to be a criminal, but my old man crossed the wrong guy and wound up in a grave.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t waste your time. He’s gone so me and my sister are free. You got any family? That could help you out?”

Ian shrugged and looked out the side window. Hit a nerve, Mickey guessed. Damn it, he wanted to pelt Ian with questions, get all his answers, punch whoever needed to be punched and then settle down. He was no dating expert, but he figured there may be a few more steps involved than that.

Figuring he’d come back to family later, he asked, “What about your friend?”

“My friend?”

“Asian guy.”

“Oh right, you drove us home. God, I think I puked that night.” He whipped around to look at the backseat. “Did I--?”

“Nah, you made it out the door.”

Ian nodded. “So embarrassing.”

“Drinking makes you sick, huh?” he asked it casually but was hoping to actually get an answer to this particular question.

“Yeah.” Yeah?

Drumming his finger on the steering wheel, Mickey had to consciously force his hand to stay put when it wanted to lift in an impatient “go one” gesture. While he was at it, he bit the side of his check to keep his mouth from saying those words. He’d asked three questions and gotten zero answers.

They were in Ian’s neighborhood now. So on top of not knowing much more about Ian, he now had to deal with pulling up in front of Ian’s place without a clue as to whether he was here strictly to give Ian a ride or whether this was a sorta date thing. Had he worn these fucking jeans for nothing?

After they had finished their grape slurpees on Saturday night, it had been okay to just say good night to Ian when he’d pulled up in front of his apartment building. It had been late and his senses had been overwhelmed with shit, so he’d needed to be alone to breath like a normal fucking person. Tonight though, he was likely gonna explode if Ian just said bye and got out of the car. He needed a plan.

Ian turned to him then with a big smile, and he knew Ian had a plan. Yes, he wanted to say, without even knowing what the plan was. Just fucking yes.

“You wanna come up and smoke a joint and play video games or watch a movie?”

Mickey frowned. Of course, he wanted to do that. It was like his dream date. But they had just talked about drinking making him sick and his buddy had mentioned coke.

“Should you be doing that shit?”

Ian sighed and looked down at his hands folded in his lap. Mickey wished like hell he could take his question back. He didn’t want to be a part of Ian doing shit that would hurt him, but he also didn’t want to be part of anything that put a frown on his face either. That smile was easily the best thing Mickey had going on right now.

So he turned toward Ian and started to take his question back. “I mean—”

And Ian turned to him at the same time. “I’m bipolar.”

The both stopped talking at the same time. “You go,” Mickey prompted with his go on gesture. Was he finally gonna get an answer to one of his questions? And would he want to know the answer.

“I’m bipolar or manic depressive. I take a fuckload of drugs. Some of them don’t mix well with alcohol and it’s stupid to mix them, but I do stupid stuff. A lot. But pot isn’t one of them. I don’t do it much, but it actually has some calming effects especially when I’m high or low. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You still wanna come up?”’

“Course I do.” And with that Mickey realized that he'd fumbled his way into another date with Ian.


	6. Fucking Aliens

LighteningMcQueen (10:37pm): where u at mick

NightRider (10:52pm): shit sorry cant make it

BullDozer (10:52pm): lame. At least give us an emoji man

NightRider (10:52pm): only got one emoji. Its all yours dozer

Drag-U-la (10:53pm): yer leaving me alone with these assholes

LighteningMcQueen (10:53pm): were sitting right here drag

BullDozer (10:54pm): she loves us

Drag-U-la (10:54pm): she tolerates you

NightRider (11:54pm): deathproof show up?

LighteningMcQueen (11:55pm): ya he’s having a stiff one

Drag-U-la (10:55pm): eye roll emoji

 

Mickey could hear Ian in his tiny kitchen banging things around, making them something to eat. The sound not much different from whatever fucking music was coming from Ian’s iPhone. When they’d stepped through his door into the apartment, Mickey had glanced around to see that he was a bit more unpacked, but the place still looked stark. He thought about his and Mandy’s apartment, full of shit between the two of them. He had tools and weights scattered here and there, and she had fucking pillows like everywhere. And now baby stuff was starting to fill the corners of the apartment. But Ian didn’t appear to have many things, just furniture.

Once they’d taken their shoes off, Ian had announced he was starving and pointed at the couch for Mickey to have a seat. Naturally, he took the opportunity to compulsively check his messages. One of these times, Mandy was gonna say it’s time. It literally had to happen at some point. But not tonight it seemed. So he flipped over to his drive group notifications.

He’d forgotten that he was considering having a beer with them. As soon as Ian had texted, he had had only one goal. In life it seemed. That goal was a six-foot-tall redhead. He sent a final text to the group.

NightRider (11:55pm): next rounds on me

With that taken care of, he dropped his phone to the coffee table and stood up to paw through the small collection of movies Ian had sitting beside his little flat screen tv. Action movies and an impressive collection of alien documentaries. He was reading the back of one called _I know what I saw_ when Ian entered the living room.

And Mickey caught him checking out his fucking ass. He would take that fact to his grave before he ever let Mandy know that shit. But he flexed his bicep a little cause why the fuck not. He didn’t know what Ian saw when he looked at him, but he wasn’t above strutting a little if it got Ian’s attention.

The redhead seemed to approve if that adorable smile was any indication. “Dry ribs okay?”

“Is that a real question, man?”

“So you’re not a dry rib virgin?”

“Never met a fucking dry rib I didn’t wanna take home.”

“Lucky dry ribs,” Ian said under his breath as he returned to the kitchen. Oh, man, were they gonna start some sort of sexy flirting thing? Mickey was never gonna be able to keep up with that. He was too fucking blunt, not to mention too fucking turned on and infatuated. He could see that getting outta his control really fucking fast.

A moment later, Ian returned holding a tightly rolled joint. “Care to join me on the balcony?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Okay, so he was going to be flirting tonight. God help me, he prayed. Maybe some aliens would hear his plea.

Ian’s apartment faced the back alley and overlooked an impressive assortment of dumpsters, but the night sky was clear, and Mickey thought maybe he could see a star. They passed the joint between them in silence while the buzz washed over Mickey.

“You believe in fucking aliens, man?”

“Absolutely not!” Ian looked at him in horror. “I would never fuck an alien!”

It took Mickey a minute, but then he snorted. Like actually snorted for fuck sake. This set Ian off and they laughed and coughed.

“So those movies in there weren’t your porn collection?” Mickey sputtered around the rawness in his throat.

“Oh my god, stop,” Ian was holding his ribs and waved his hand at Mickey when he tried to pass him the joint. “I’m done.”

Mickey slipped it between his lips and eyed Ian through the fog of smoke it created. They were standing so close and suddenly nothing was funny. “You sure?” Mickey asked and inhaled deeply. Then he took a step closer until he could bring his mouth to Ian’s. Just barely. Just enough to feel soft lips on his. Anticipating what was happening, Ian opened his mouth enough to inhale the smoke Mickey released. Then Mickey stepped back so Ian could exhale.

Bloodshot green eyes smiled into his. “That was nice.”

“You’re nice.” 

And they cracked up again. “Smooth talker.”

“Ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Oh,” Ian blurted. “The ribs!”

By the time Ian returned to the living room, Mickey had an alien documentary in the DVD player and he was relaxed on the couch, his eyes closed and his head resting along the back of the couch. The weed had taken the edges off his brain, and he kind a forgot for a moment that he was falling for some guy and that it was in-fucking-sane.

Then he remembered touching Ian’s lips and he sucked on his bottom lip a little trying to recall it, but he got sidetracked by aliens fucking and he smiled as he tried to picture it. What would aliens think if they saw humans fucking? Probably looked weird as shit. But that brought him full circle to Ian and fucking and which one of them would do the fucking. And his eyes popped open.

To find Ian staring down at him. He didn’t look adorable or flirty. He looked…hungry. How fucking long had he been standing there?

“Mickey,” he whispered. Mickey sat up straight unsure what was happening but wanting to be one hundred and fifty percent ready for whatever the fuck it was.

“Ian,” he whispered back. It seemed like the right response. Plus it was the only word he still had in his vocabulary. It would have to do.

It seemed to work because it prompted Ian to sit in his fucking lap with his knees bracketing Mickey’s hips and his pot holder covered hands on Mickey’s shoulders. The weight of Ian's body on his legs grounded him to reality.

“We have three minutes while the garlic toast broils.”

“C’mere then,” Mickey grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down. Ian came willingly and they were fucking kissing. Like real, full-on kissing. Both of their mouths were open by the time they met, and Ian’s tongue was finally scraping against his. It was so unfamiliar but so perfect. Just fucking right. He dug his fingers into the seams at the sides of Ian’s jeans. He tilted his head to fit their mouths together, and a beeping sound broke through his desire induced fog. Ian pulled away a little and their harsh puffs of breath caressed each other’s faces.

Oh man, he’d been horny before but that had felt like an itch he needed to scratch. This was more like a rash, a full body rash. Like he needed to rub his entire skin. With Ian’s skin.

“Wait here.”

“Wild fucking horses couldn’t make me move.”

Ian grinned that grin and pecked his lips then was up and moving toward the kitchen, and Mickey let himself stare openly at the tight fucking ass as it disappeared from view. Holy fuck. He took a deep breath and looked at his slightly shaking hands. Good thing food was coming. They needed to slow down so he could think. He wanted to do this right, not just get his rocks off. If they did, this. Then what? Fuck, he was freaking out after one kiss.

Then Ian was back and setting plates and paper towel on the coffee table. “I only have iced tea. That okay?”

“Iced tea,” Mickey repeated like he was an alien hearing about iced tea for the first time.

Ian pressed his lips together in a smirk. “So no complaints then?”

“None. Zero.”

They ate their ribs and garlic toast while learning about high-level alien cover-ups. As far as Mickey was concerned, he was willing to believe anything at this point in his life cause if someone had told him that he’d be gnawing on dry ribs with two gangly legs draped over his lap, he wouldn’t have believed them anymore than people believe that the United States government has entered into a peace treaty with aliens.

He looked at Ian leaning back against the arm of the couch, his plate balanced on his abdomen. “You believe this shit? The government is hiding fucking aliens in the desert?”

“Sure, why not?” he grinned. “I’m constantly seeing shit I can’t believe.” Then his face turned a little serious. "Plus sometimes I think I'm an alien."

"Cause a that red hair and shit?"

"What? No," he laughed and jiggled the legs under Mickey's plate. "I don't fit in anywhere. Maybe aliens came and did some experiments on my brain or something. Ya know?"

No Mickey didn’t know. Ian was, like, perfect. Sure, he had shit wrong with him but he was still perfect. But he figured he was supposed to be supportive or some shit like that. "Um sure. If I were an alien, I'd definitely start with you."

Bingo! Another one of those looks. So he flexed a little. And Ian noticed. Dating101, man. Agree and flex.

Mickey nodded and finished his last rib, dropping the bone onto the plate he had sitting on Ian’s shins. His left hand had found its way to those shins and was lightly rubbing circles. He was so fucking comfy, but his body was screaming for a smoke.

“Smoke?” Ian asked. Woah.

Mickey placed his plate on top of Ian’s and reached to place them on the coffee table. Then slid out from under Ian’s legs, but before Ian could get up, he braced his hands on the arm of the couch lowering himself down until his lips met Ian’s once. Twice. He felt Ian’s hands on his back. But his stood up and took those hands in his pulling Ian to standing.

“Smoke.”

While Mickey lit them a Marlborough, Ian grabbed his phone to show Mickey some astronomy app that used GPS to track constellations and whatever. He held the phone up to the sky and some 3D sky map appeared, and they could see all the shit that was up there that they couldn’t see from Ian’s balcony view.

When he passed the smoke to Ian, he took the phone himself and held it up moving around the tiny space in amazement that the little phone screen contained the fucking universe. “All that shit is up there all the time? And they named it all? Man, people got way too much time on their hands.”

“I hear you can get a star named after you.”

Mickey looked at Ian. Yeah, some people needed a star named after them. “What would you call your star? If you had one? Just Ian?”

“Maybe IG138.”

And Mickey held is breath. Was he finally gonna find out some of Ian’s secret stuff? He hoped he wouldn’t have to punch anyone. “What’s that stand for?”

“Ian Gallagher,” he began and slid himself along the railing forcing Mickey to lift his hand off the cool metal. Once it was out of the way, Ian was able to tuck himself into the space between the railing and Mickey’s body, his back lightly pressed to Mickey's chest. Hell, yeah, Mickey wrapped his arm around his waist holding him snuggly. “138, my worst bout of depression. 138 days.”

Mickey rested his head on Ian’s shoulder blade and wondered what you do when there’s no one to punch.

"It reminds me to take my pills," Ian added. “What about you, Mickey? What would you name your star?”

“I’m gonna go with that one too.”


	7. Ham Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't had a chance to check out the edit and short story in the comment section of Chapter 5, you might want to do that before reading this chapter, which is dedicated to Nicrenkel. <3

LighteningMcQueen (10:13pm): u working tonight Rider?

NightRider (10:15pm): traded with deathproof. taking sat off again

Drag-U-la (10:16pm): getting serious!

BullDozer (10:16pm): is it time for a heart emoji mick?

LighteningMcQueen (10:16pm): we ever gonna meet him?

NightRider (10:17pm): over my dead body

Drag-U-la (10:17pm): NO NO NO do not give lightening an opening!!!

Drag-U-la (10:17pm): stop typing whatever yer typing mcqueen

LighteningMcQueen (10:18pm): but yer killing me

 

Pulling out of the 7/11 parking lot, Mickey felt a wave of something that was probably happiness wash over him. Labelling emotions wasn’t his specialty but whatever it was, he could get on board with it. He could also see how a person could get addicted to feeling like this and expect it to last, which lead him to a moment of panic. What if it didn’t last? What if— Nope, maybe he wasn’t good at labelling emotions, but he was pretty fucking good at ignoring them, and this panicky worry thing wasn’t getting any of his attention.

Instead he took a long swig of his grape slurpee and grimaced a little. Shit was sweet. But maybe that’s just how he likes 'em.

So Ian had picked up some shifts at the movie theatre this week and now their schedules kind a clashed, but when he had mentioned earlier that day that he was getting off at 10:30 tonight, Mickey had said he’d be there to drive him home. Ian had argued that he could get home on his own, that Mickey should be driving around paying customers. Mickey had replied honestly: wanna c u. And Ian had sent him an _actual_ heart eye emoji.

Hearts? Like as in love?

And at that point in his conversation with Ian, Mandy had plucked the phone from his hand demanding to see why her grumpy lump of a brother looked like he was a 15-year-old girl reading _Twilight_ for the first time. He’d tried to grab the device from her, but you don’t mess with an 8 1/2 month pregnant Milkovich. Not if you wanna keep your fucking balls intact.

But she’d just handed him his phone back after glancing at it and wandered into the kitchen returning with a ham sandwich for each of them. So they’d chatted like human beings, and he’d told her about Ham Man as he’d named him. At first, she’d smacked his head and asked who the fuck turns down a ham? Then she asked an impressive fucking list of questions and eventually came up with a backstory about him being a stockbroker or some Northsider shit that made Mickey’s actual life look like a snore. She’d even figured he’d have a yearly salary worth more than the entire amount they’d gotten for their childhood shithole they used a call home. Mickey listened, impressed but, ultimately, decided that the only reason a guy would have a half a pound of pork in his backpack was cause he’s a fucking psycho.

Now, here he was stopping at every 7/11 between O’Hare and the Empire Theatre, looking for one with grape on tap because Ian sent him a fucking emoji. After finally topping up two cups, he’d grabbed a couple of corndogs for his old lady too cause he needed to keep in her good graces after getting her late to the doc the morning after his date with Ian. He never fucking knew what was gonna set off her inner hormonal bitch. Apparently, being five damn minutes late for an appointment to poke at her privates was a trigger. Which conjured up images of things coming out of her privates and he nearly hit a parked car.

Really fucking soon a baby was gonna be coming out, and he was supposed to be there to hold her fucking hand. Who was gonna hold his fucking hand? When he’d agreed to help, it was like months away, and maybe he figured something would happen along the way that would intervene and save his ass from actually having to cut a cord or whatever the hell non-deadbeat dads do.

He tried to picture the baby, but that brought Kenyatta to mind and how the baby got there. God, he’d rather think about aliens fucking than Mandy and fuckhead going at it and creating a baby. Why was he thinking about his sister and aliens fucking when he could be thinking about Ian fucking? It had been like at least ten minutes since he’d thought about it. Wasted time.

Not that he knew what fucking Ian was like, but he could imagine it and boy did he imagine it. He’d seen Ian mostly naked and his clothes were always tight, so he no problem with that part of the endless fantasy loop in his brain. Plus he’d seen him dance and had a good idea how he could move. And of course, he was insanely attracted to him so in his fantasies, things were fucking hot. Sometimes they were on Ian’s bed, sometimes in his car, one time he’d stopped at a convenience store for some water and imagined fucking around with Ian in the freezer. These fantasies involved a lot of tongue action, sometimes he lost count of how many tongues should be involved cause there were tongues everywhere. Eventually the tongues would give way to hands and he’d get to feel what Ian had going on in those tight fucking jeans. He knew Lightening and Dozer would approve.

What? How’d they get into his fantasy? Fuck sake.

With that douse of cold water on his imaginary sex life, his thoughts shifted to his real sex life and his last date with Ian. After they’d named their stars, Ian had turned around in his arms, and they’d hugged. It was weird as shit cause Mickey had zero experience with hugging. Aside from those two glorious years before raging hormone was born, he wasn’t sure he’d engaged in any hugging. But Ian had felt warm and sort a soft in his arms with his cheek on Mickey’s shoulder. That was it, just standing there holding him.

Eventually, Ian had murmured into the sensitive skin of his neck, “you smell nice.” Then he’d yawned hugely, and Mickey knew it was time to go. Apparently, he had a fucking doctor’s appointment he had to get his sister-wife to at the ass crack of dawn, and he had needed some sleep. So did Ian.

They’d made their way to the door slowly with Ian attached to his neck, so Mickey had tested the second base waters and slid his hand down to Ian’s ass. And Ian seemed to think that was an okay idea since he’d tried a little second base of his own.

When they finally reached the door, they did the hugging thing one more time and Ian grabbed his phone and shit for him, kissed him chastely on the lips and watched him walk down the hall. Mickey fucking knew it, he could feel the stare like the rays from one of those goddamn designer stars in the sky. Fuck it, he owed Mandy at least two corndogs.

By the time he’d arrived at the Matrix parked in front of Ian’s building, one text message was waiting for him:

Red (1:15am): I’m gonna sleep well 2nite. Got u to think about.

He’d spent gay amounts of time looking at that text since then. Ian thinks about him? In bed? Fucking hell, now he was about to see him and had to try not act all weird.

There he was leaning against the small ticket booth. He looked up from his phone as the Matrix pulled to a stop, and they smiled like idiots as Ian made his way into the car.

“Hi, thanks for—” Ian stopped talking when he saw the slurpees in the cupholders. “Grape slurpees?”

“Whatever. I got a taste for them, man,” he said with a shrug.

“I got a taste for something too,” Ian responded leaning across the console. “These fucking lips.”

Apparently it was the bottom lip he had a real taste for cause he sucked it between his lips and ran his tongue along it. As he pulled back, the lip went with him until it wouldn’t pull anymore, and he released it. Mickey sat stunned massaging his throbbing lip with his tongue.

“That tongue’s a close second. Gonna save it for the kiss goodbye though.” Ian lifted his slurpee from the cupholder. “Home, James. You need to get back to work.”

Still in process mode, Mickey just nodded and put the Matrix into drive. As he pulled back into the lane, Ian’s hand covered the back of his where it rested on the gear shift. Now his attention shifted from his lip to their hands. It felt like the most intimate thing he’d ever done. He’d never held anyone’s hand before, but he was learning that where Ian was concerned, he had no fucking limits.

So he flipped his hand over and their fingers slid together forming a bond.

“What are you doing at 10:30 tomorrow morning?” Ian asked him.

“Probably sleeping.”

“Wanna go to a movie with me instead?” Ian asked smiling all twinkly and shit. “At the Empire? It’s Michael Keaton week and they’re showing _Beetlejuice_.”

“At 10:30 in the fucking morning?” Mickey asked with a confused look at Ian.

“Well, we’re both working the rest of the day. We don’t have to see the movie. Wanna do something else?” Ian was sounding less twinkly.

“Nah, man, just never been to a movie in the morning. Seems weird. Will we eat popcorn? Or do they serve fucking pancakes?”

Ian lifted their linked hands and kissed the “C” above his knuckle. “Just show up and I’ll take care of the rest.”

They spent the rest of the drive chatting about their day and Mickey ended up sharing the Ham Man story with Ian as well as Mandy’s theory about him being some sort of ivory tower Northsider. Ian laughed and added that Mickey should have felt honored to be offered the guy’s best ham.

“Nah, man, I was more worried I’d end up as his _next_ fucking ham.”

“More like a rump roast,” Ian tilted his head and smiled. Mickey made a mental note to not introduce him to Lightening. They’d trip over themselves with dumb fucking jokes.

As Ian’s apartment came into view, Mickey’s heart started making itself fucking known anticipating what Ian had in mind for his tongue. Acknowledging that his boundaries were a fucking memory, he knew he was willing to do anything with his tongue that Ian wanted. Anything.


	8. Hallmark Card

LighteningMcQueen (9:37am): where I come from ham is f’n expensive

Drag-U-la (9:37am): I’m with mick. psycho

BullDozer (9:38am): I like ham

KnightRider (9:38am): mandy thinks--

 

“Been doing a lot of that lately.”

Mickey startled at Mandy’s voice in the small alcove they called a dining room. “Whatever. I always lift,” he looked up from his phone which was propped up against the carton of milk sitting on the table to scowl at his sister.

“Yeah, not while you eat fucking Fruit Loops.” She laughed and picked up his coffee cup. “Yuck, how can you drink it black?”

“Cause if I put any shit in it, you’ll drink it. Get your own damn cup,” he responded half heartedly cause his attention was now on flexing his bicep as he lifted the 20-pound weight.

“Why you up so early? No, don’t answer that,” she said stopping directly in front of him until he had an intimate view of the gigantic melon. “Ian.”

He scowled up at her again, and she laughed her way to the fridge. Opening it, she added, “K.I.S.S.I.N.G. First comes love then comes marriage—”

“Do not mention baby carriages, so help me god.” But now that shit was in his mind. The baby in a carriage being pushed around. And of course, the other thing that was constantly on his mind merged with the baby which was never far from his thoughts. So the image ended up with Ian pushing the baby carriage. “Fuck sake,” he mumbled.

Still peering into the fridge for fuck knows what, Mandy added, “You going out with Ian now?”

“Yeah, to a movie at 10:30.”

“In the fucking morning? That’s weird.”

“That’s what I said. Who does that?”

“You,” she laughed bending over to arrange shit in the fridge. “It’s awesome that you met someone, Mick. You deserve it. Makes me mad that you couldn’t be yourself sooner.”

He looked at her back, pinching up his nose and shaking his head. What’s this? More mushy shit. His life was becoming a fucking Hallmark card.

“Dad was a fucking prick and he was fucking wrong.” She shut the fridge door having selected a jar of pickles. “He deserved the bullet he got. Too bad it took so long.”

He wondered if Hallmark made a card for that.

 

 

At 10:15am, Mickey locked the Matrix and walked toward the Empire noticing a couple of women pushing strollers through the theatre doors. Just as he approached the ticket booth, Ian appeared at the door and waved him inside. Mickey wanted to push him into a corner somewhere and say hello properly. It was his jeans and t-shirt that he especially wanted to say hello to, and he wanted to say hello with his hands.

But when he stepped through the door, his heart stopped beating and his eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead.

“What the fuck, Ian?”

“It’s called Stars and Strollers, Mickey,” Ian explained with a calming hand on his bicep. Mickey was too frazzled to even flex, for fuck sake. “Mothers and babies come to watch movies together then no one can complain if the babies fuss.”

But Mickey just stared at him blankly. Those words made no sense to him. Especially when used in conjunction with his first official date with Ian. Why were babies on his date? And not just babies but lots of fucking babies.

“Listen,” Ian began looping his finger through the belt loop of Mickey’s jeans, which went a long way to winning Mickey over to his point of view before even knowing what his point of view was. “I wanted to be alone with you in the dark. And I thought you might need a bit of baby exposure before the big event.”

“Why you gotta put those two things in the same sentence?” he shuddered. He also wanted to be alone in the dark with Ian, naked preferably. But he wanted zero babies to be present.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” he pulled Mickey by the belt loop toward a small group of women, who stopped talking when they arrived. “Hi,” Ian smiled at them.

“Oh, is this Mickey?” A tiny blonde with weirdly long eyelashes asked.

Ian’s gaze flicked to Mickey, but his cute ass little smirk was on his face, so Mickey forgave him everything and anything he might ever do forever. “Yeah, and this is Flynn,” he cooed slipping his finger into the baby’s hand. “Say hi to Mickey, Flynn.”

“He can talk?” Mickey’s eyes were huge in disbelief.

“No,” Ian laughed.

“Then why’d you tell him to say hi?” Seemed like a set up to him.

Ian laughed again, then leaned over and kissed Mickey’s cheek, who would have freaked the fuck out except that he was surrounded by babies and had bigger things to worry about than a guy pecking his cheek in public.

Turning away, Ian held out his arms to the blonde and, suddenly, there was a baby in them. It was tiny and wrapped like a fucking breakfast burrito, but Ian seemed completely at ease. Mickey watched intently as Ian brought the baby to his chest, cradling its head in his arm and wrapping his big hand around its diaper clad bottom. He rocked a little and kissed the kid’s forehead.

Mickey had no words. None. He had no idea how to catalogue every reaction he was having. Top of the list though, he was scared shitless. This baby thing had suddenly become real, really fucking real. Like cold water thrown in his face, real.

Then the unthinkable. Ian reached his arms out toward Mickey, who waved his hands, shook his head and took a step backwards. But as with everything Ian, Mickey was helpless to disappoint him. So when Ian stepped forward bringing them nearly chest to chest, he lifted his arms accepting the burrito.

It was solid, yet weighed less than the free weights he was curling this morning, and it fit kind of okay in his arms like it was designed to be there. Ian didn’t move away, instead he rested his hand on Mickey’s waist and watched Flynn squirm a bit before settling down.

They just stood there with a little bundle of human flesh between them, Mickey accustoming himself to the baby in his arms and the man in front of him. He tried to tamp down the swirling mess of fear, wonder, yearning but Ian’s hand on his waist had moved to the small of his back.

Then suddenly the burrito let out a squawk that brought the moment to an end. Ian grinned at him probably enjoying the way he scowled in exasperation but gently took the baby from his arms. Mickey watched in complete amazement as Ian lifted the howling infant to his shoulder and patted its back. Some nonsense came out of his mouth while he bounced from foot to foot, but the kid shut up almost immediately.

Mickey glanced at the blonde woman, who was watching Ian and the kid with an adoring fucking smile. So Mickey checked in with his face and sure enough, he had the same stupid look on his face. It was cute as fuck even from a Southside thug’s point of view.

Ian looked so happy, content. Like he was doing something he was meant to do. Mickey didn’t bother checking in with his face that time. He was gonna need a fucking subscription to Hallmark.

Eventually the kid found its mother and they made their way to the seats that Ian had reserved for them in the balcony by leaving two large McDonald’s coffee cups and a bag of food. It was mostly unnecessary because all the mothers and babies were swarming around the lower level. Mickey could see them moving and chatting below him.

Ian passed him a breakfast sandwich. “Breakfast! No _fucking_ popcorn,” he said.

“Good man,” he replied opening his sandwich. Ham. He looked over at Ian who was grinning from ear to ear.

While they ate in the dark and the quiet ads played on the big screen, Mickey asked, “How’d you know how to do that? With the kid, man?”

“I have three younger siblings,” Ian replied but because Mickey was hyper in tune with Ian, he knew that something else was happening that Ian wasn’t telling him. And now Mickey was in that danger zone. He wanted to know; no, he fucking needed to know, but he didn’t want to ruin their date.

“They live in Michigan with my older sister and her husband,” Ian added looking at the screen. “I haven’t talked to them in a while.”

Dropping his napkin in the bag, Mickey laid his arm along the back of Ian’s chair, and Ian shifted so he was a little closer. While they watched the “ghost with the most” torment some home owners, Ian slowly cuddled closer and closer to Mickey, and in true date fashion, Mickey paid less and less attention to the screen cause more and more of his body was in contact with Ian.

First, it was his cheek that he rested lightly on Mickey’s shoulder, which was nice. Having Ian on him in any way was gonna be a fucking pleasure, but then Ian turned his head so his chin rested on Mickey’s shoulder, which brought his mouth way too close to Mickey’s ear. Sucking in a little air, he braced himself for what was next. But nothing happened. Ian’s mouth was still about an inch from his ear. He fought the urge to push his ear toward Ian and just sat in anticipation for what, he had no idea. Then he felt a hand on his thigh.

Oh, that was what he was waiting for. He closed his eyes as the hand wrapped around the meatiest part of his leg. So fucking close.

Fuck, now he had Ian’s mouth an inch from his ear and his hand an inch from his junk. And he had no idea which one he wanted to close the distance first. He felt his hips shift just slightly as his dick hardened. Images of Ian’s hand in his pants filled his brain but as much as he fucking wanted that, he didn’t really want it here. No fucking way he’d say no if those long fingers wrapped around him and started tugging but he didn’t really want it to happen with a shitload of baby meat below them.

Ian’s fingers squeezed his thigh but stayed in place. His mouth did not. It connected with the flesh of Mickey’s ear, sucking and biting lightly. With each nip, his hips lifted slightly in response. Like a cord was connected from his ear to his dick. Tension was building rapidly in his lower belly.

Mickey could hear Ian breathing, and feel deep puffs of air hit his earlobe. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take then the very tip of Ian’s tongue slid along the grooves of his ear until it found its destination. There was no holding back the groan that slipped from his lips.

“Kiss me,” Ian whispered into his ear.

Mickey’s eyes popped open. Yes, fuck. As much as Ian’s lips on his ear was a high he’d never felt before, his lips on Mickey’s lips was like shooting heroin straight into his blood stream. He turned his head and Ian’s lips were right there waiting for him. Pushing into them, he curled his arm around Ian’s shoulder. His other hand came up to Ian’s neck and caressed the smooth skin along his throat until his hand was gripping the back of Ian’s head holding him in place.

By the time he got his tongue in Ian’s mouth, he was practically in Ian’s seat with him. The arm rest was keeping him from completely burying himself in Ian, but he wasn’t giving up without a fight. Ian was pushed back against his arm rest and the hand that had been gripping his thigh made its way around Mickey’s neck and his leg made its way to Mickey’s hip.

It was the most awkward kiss he’d ever engaged in and the fucking best.

They stayed that way until the lights came on and the credits rolled. Mickey was a mess and Ian didn’t appear to be in any better condition, so they sat beside each other watching the theatre empty. He knew what he’d be thinking about all night at work.


	9. Crazy 4 U

Drag-U-la (8:46pm): okay it def sounds like Braxton Hicks. Uterus is getting ready

LighteningMcQueen (8:47pm): r u sure this should be a group chat?

Drag-U-la (8:47pm): go away lightening.

Drag-U-la (8:47pm): mick the contractions haven’t gotten closer 2gether?

KnightRider (8:56pm): no. she says they stopped

BullDozer (8:56pm): hey guys what’d I miss?

LighteningMcQueen (8:57pm): yeah nah bro you don’t wanna know

 

Mickey had been getting dolled up for his night of watching Ian dance. While he showered, he’d tried to talk himself out of burning the Swallow to the ground thereby making it impossible for Ian to strip in front of a room full of pervs, which is how he now viewed all men who went to gay bars. Usually, he quite enjoyed thinking about Ian while he scrubbed his private parts, and got them really, really clean.

Tonight though, it was more than the shampoo that was getting lathered up. He was getting worked up and had no fucking idea how he was gonna deal with 5 hours of motherfuckers eyeballing what Mickey had definitely come to think of as his boyfriend. Maybe they never said that to each other, but that’s the position he was in.

After their epic make out session at baby meat central, Ian had stayed around the theatre to start his shift and Mickey had washed the car and gotten ready for work. He and Ian had texted more or less the whole rest of the day. Lots of sexy shit or at least it sounded sexy to him when Ian used words like hard and come when talking about needing to stop at the laundromat.

They had managed to meet for “coffee” at a Starbucks near Ian’s place between their shifts yesterday. Mickey had gotten a fancy latte thing that tasted like candy. Fuck Mandy, he snickered to himself. Then felt bad and bought her one on the way out. Damn it, he didn’t know if he was coming or going anymore. He used to never care about shit. Now that’s about all he fucking did. Care about shit.

As much as he enjoyed sipping five dollar coffee and listening to Ian natter away about people who go to old movies, Mickey’s mind was constantly drawn to the fact that the next time he saw Ian he’d be mostly naked but out of his reach. In all ways that matter. He didn’t bring it up cause there was no fucking point, but it was like a goddamn elephant was sitting at the table with them drinking a venti chai latte.

As he towelled his hair, he decided to find out if Ian felt the same way about their relationship status. It was almost 8:00pm and Ian would be finishing the early shift at the Empire then heading to the Swallow. Mickey decided now was the time to stake his claim, so if he did end up doing something violent at the club, he could at least claim it was cause Ian was his.

Mickey (7:46pm): u on yer way?

Red (7:48pm): just got 2 train stn

Mickey (7:48pm): wanna ask u smth

Red (7:50pm): ask away. On train now

Mickey (7:51pm): r we a couple?

Red (7:51pm): course we r!

Mickey (7:51pm): ~~thanks~~

Mickey (7:52pm): ~~okay~~

Mickey (7:53pm): ~~then stop dancing~~

Red (7:53pm): I’m crazy about u

 

Mickey was fumbling cause he didn’t know what to say, it all sounded lame, not enough but too much. Maybe he’d stop at the drug store for some Hallmark cards. For fuck sake.

Before he could finish chastising himself and formulate a response, he heard a crash from the kitchen and hightailed it toward the sound. Mandy was standing in front of the kitchen sink with a pickle grasped in her hand like a life saver. The rest of the pickles and the jar they came in were on the floor in front of her.

“Holy motherfucking son of a bitch!” The both said at the same time as their eyes met.

“Is this it, Mands?” Mickey wanted to cry. He wasn’t fucking ready. Holding one baby for 10 seconds did not make him an expert. It barely made him an amateur. Why didn’t he read all those books she left laying around?

“I don’t know! How the fuck should I know? Do I look like a fucking doctor?” she yelled back at him while running her hand around the base of her belly. “But no, I don’t think so.”

“Then what the fuck is going on?” he asked but not before falling into a kitchen chair. His legs felt like jello. He loved jello and really wanted to eat some right this minute. Or better yet smoke a pack of cigarettes and down a 2-6 of Jack.

“Just like a tightening that took my breath away for a second but it’s over now.”

“But maybe it’s the start?”

“I still got two weeks left, Mickey.” She sounded so hopeful that Mickey stood up. He took the pickle from her hand and nudged her around the broken glass and pickle juice until she could sit at the table.

“How the fuck do you clean this shit up?” he asked flabbergasted.

“I’ll get it. You gotta get to Ian.”

He looked at her like she was losing her mind, but he was really conflicted. Obviously, he wasn’t gonna leave her alone if she was having a fucking baby, but he also didn’t like the idea of Ian alone tonight either. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn’t even ask the guys to check in on Ian cause they were working tonight. But at least he could get Drag to give him a ride home.

Ian could take care of himself. He wasn’t an infant. Fuck. But he was great with infants. He looked like an expert from Mickey’s point of view. The fucking guy got more perfect the more time he spent with him cause what guy gave you baby holding lessons on a date? Fucking guy must be okay with this whole crazy ass situation Mickey was in. It wasn’t scaring him off anyway.

“Mick?”

“Sorry, sorry. Um, let’s clean it up and figure it out.”

“Get the big chunks of glass first, then use paper towel,” Mandy started rambling and they used the mundane task to take their minds off the unknown. Neither one of them was really ready for this. Before Mickey could finish clean-up, Mandy had another spasm and Mickey looked at the clock. “Five minutes,” she answered the unspoken question.

So they sat and stared at each other for an hour counting the minutes between, and they stayed consistently five minutes apart. By then, Mickey had texted Drag cause he needed someone to take over the maybe baby situation. Someone he could trust.

She asked questions and eventually came up with a diagnosis of Braxton Hicks, which she said are preparing Mandy for what was coming but not actually labor. This was just a pre-season game not the home opener.

Right around 9pm even those stopped and by 9:30pm, she had gone to bed ordering Mickey to go get his boyfriend. He’d looked at her quickly wondering how she knew that, but she’d already closed her bedroom door. She had her cell phone and he had the word of the entire drive group that they’d be on call to pick her up if need be. It would have to do.

So he returned to the bathroom to finish getting ready and realized he’d left Ian hanging! Fuck, he’d asked if they were a couple. Ian had said yes that he was crazy about him, and Mickey hadn’t responded for two hours. He checked his phone and sure enough one text from Ian unread: sorry. Sent 20 minutes after he’d shared his feelings with Mickey.

Goddamn it, he imagined Ian riding the train waiting for Mickey’s reply but not getting it. Then having to start work with that hanging over his head. Mickey sent a reply: me too Ian. Completely crazy.

But he knew Ian wasn’t going to see it because he was already dancing. Fucking hell, he was also now late getting to the club. Mickey gathered up his shit and stopped briefly in front of Mandy’s door. “Hey, I’m leaving but I’ll keep in touch.”

“Bring home some pickles, k?” she mumbled through the closed door.

He laughed and felt a little better about leaving her alone. If Ian was still talking to him, maybe he’d suggest they spend the night here.

 

The Swallow was busy tonight and Mickey had to push between guys to find Ian’s stage. It was empty. So he continued moving around the place hoping to find him in a different spot, but no Ian in little gold shorts anywhere. Breathing deeply, he glared at anyone who even accidently made eye contact. Like the scantily clad server who tried to ask him if he wanted a drink.

“Do I look like I want a fucking drink?” he barked.

“Um, yeah.”

“Well, I don’t. Yet. Soon I’m gonna ask you to keep ‘em coming until closing,” he explained to the confused server. “You know Ian?”

“Sure.”

“Where is he? Did he make it to work?”

The guy eyed him up without answering, and as much as this pissed him off, it also made him happy. He didn’t want people knowing where Ian was if he didn’t want to be found. “He was dancing earlier.”

Mickey stormed away. So he was here but where the fuck was he? The whole time he had been prowling around the joint, he’d been blocking one possibility from his brain. Now he was forced to entertain it. But not before he stopped at the bar and ordered a shot of Jack. Tossing money at the bartender, he took the shot in one gulp.

Private dance. He let the words settle in his mind. Okay, he could do this. Ian was working, that’s it. A job. Nope, it wasn’t working. If Ian was currently enduring some fucker’s breath on him, Mickey was gonna lose it. He could feel it. Like a loosening in his joints, his body was preparing for a beatdown.

He looked around and was about to ask the bartender where he’d find the private rooms when he saw the neon EXIT sign. It was early for Ian to be taking a break but maybe that’s where he was, having a smoke out back.

God, he fucking hoped so. Please, please, please. All this anxiety was being fueled by guilt for having let Ian hang in the wind. He knew the guy was gonna be having a hard time today as it was and that he’d start thinking shit about Mickey’s feelings. He fucking knew it.

The night air drifted over his face as he opened the heavy, metal backdoor. It took him a split second to understand what he was seeing and then he grabbed the metal railing surrounding the shallow stairs leading to the alley.

“Oh, no fucking way,” he spat, swinging his legs over the railing. He landed with a thud that drew the attention of the two men standing next to the recycling dumpster. Ian was pushed face first into the cement side of the building, and the asshole from that a first night had his forearm pressed into the back of his neck, his other hand was somewhere Mickey couldn’t see.

The guy was not gonna have that hand when Mickey got finished with him. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw your ugly fucking face,” he yelled grabbing the hair at the back of the guy’s head and pulling until he was well away from Ian. Then he slammed his closed fist into cheekbone. It was a shallow hit cause they were in close proximity, but it shook the guy and Mickey was able to release his hold.

Asshole took a step back and the spacing was perfect. So Mickey shifted his weight to his left foot, pivoting for maximum force and slammed his fist into his nose this time. As blood spurted, the guy raised his hands to his face. “Animal,” he spat, red spit coming from his mouth.

Stepping forward, Mickey landed an undercut to his gut. “That’s for Ian.” The hands holding his nose dropped to his gut as the wind left his body. With his face free again, Mickey landed a second punch to the already broken nose. “That’s for me.”

Unable to stay on his feet, Asshole fell to his knees, and Mickey stepped on the fingers splayed over the crumbling alleyway. Crouching down, he tried to make eye contact with Asshole. “Look at me.”

Their eyes met, and Mickey shifted slightly so as much weight as possible was on the fingers still trapped beneath his boot. “That,” he said grinding his foot into flesh, “Is for every time you touched Ian that I don’t know about.”

The guy was crying in pain now, but Mickey kept his foot in place. “You listening?” When he didn’t get a response, Mickey added, “I hate fucking repeating myself. I usually let my fists do it for me. In this case, I think I’ll make an exception. Gonna use something more memorable.”

“I’m listening,” he said or at least that’s what it sounded like.

“I’m not a nice fucking person. I have done a lot of not nice things. So I want you to listen real fucking close: I won’t hesitate to drive you up to my special spot in Salt Creek,” he paused and grabbed the guy’s hair to tilt his head up. “You won’t be returning.”

Mickey stood up and used the tip of his boot to push the guy back onto his ass. “Leave.” After a moment of crab walking backwards, he was on his feet and scurrying out of the alley.

Mickey was breathing heavily from adrenaline and rage, but when he turned to Ian, it all drained away and all that was left was fear. Ian’s back was pressed to the wall and his hand was pressed to his stomach through the hoodie he’d covered himself with.

“Jesus Christ, Ian,” he sighed, pulling him into his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry I’m late.”

“I’m sorry, Mickey,” he whispered into his neck. “I didn’t—we didn’t—”

Mickey tightened his arms. As if he thought Ian wanted the guy anywhere near him. “I fucking know, man.”

They stayed like that for a moment, then Mickey pulled away to look at him. “You okay?” When Ian nodded, he asked, “What are you doing out here so soon? Your break isn’t for another hour, right?”

“I was a little bit upset and wanted to, um, check my messages. I was zoned out and didn’t even hear the backdoor.”

“Aw fuck,” Mickey felt the guilt knot tighten. “Man, I got fucking sidetracked right after your message. Mandy got some hiccups or hicks or whatever. We thought she was having the baby, but it turned out to be a false fucking alarm. Scared the crap out of me though.”

“Is she okay? Why are you here then?” Ian pushed away a bit.

“She’s fine at the moment, pretty much demanded I come.”

“Why?” Ian asked warily.

“She knows about you. About this,” he added waving his hand vaguely at the building.

“Oh, right. I need to get back in there now,” Ian looked like he was gonna be sick.

“Maybe you don’t, man.” They stared at each other. Ian looked like he was about to agree, but instead he asked a question Mickey had no answer for.

“How will I pay my rent?” Ian looked away starting to shut him out again. Oh, hell, no. He wasn’t losing Ian to this shit again.

“Where are you parents?” he asked placing his hands on Ian’s cheeks so he’d have to look at him.

Ian laughed bitterly. “My mom’s dead and my so-called dad is a drunk. You know my sister is gone and my older brother is in university, barely able to look after himself let alone his down n out younger brother. And I can’t keep sleeping on Lin and Colin’s couch. They got their own life, you know?”

Mickey wanted to say a lot of things: he’d pay his rent, he could move in with him and Mandy, he’d buy him a house. Whatever the fuck it took, but he didn’t say any of those things. He just knew it wasn’t the right time or place. So he shut up and took Ian’s hand.

They made their way to the door and just as they got there, Ian turned to him and pushed their lips together. When he pulled away a tiny bit, his eyes were open and so were Mickey’s. “Thank you for protecting me.”

“Course,” he nodded. “Did you get my text?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean it, Ian.” 


	10. Beautiful Contradiction

LighteningMcQueen (10:47pm): town clowns on Pulanski

BullDozer (10:47pm): kojak with a kodak?

LighteningMcQueen (10:47pm): straight up in the granny lane

Drag-U-la (10:48pm): OMG stop, u 2 r not truckers

Drag-U-la (10:48pm): god I miss you mick (crying emoji)

 

Drag-U-la (11:01pm): hows mandy?

KnightRider (11:11pm): same and thx 4 2nt

Drag-U-la (11:11pm): thumbs up

 

 

Once he and Ian entered the darkened club, Ian headed to the change room and Mickey made his way to the table closest to Ian’s station. There was a young Black kid at the table and when Mickey stopped directly in front him, the fresh-faced kid started to smile like it was his lucky night. After about 10 seconds of confusion, the kid hightailed it across the club and Mickey sat down at the table.

He was searching for the server when it dawned on him he hadn’t checked his phone in awhile. After smiling at the drive group antics, he made sure Mandy still had someone staying in her guest room, that they hadn’t checked out yet.

Mickey (11:15pm): hey

Mandy (11:15pm): hey

Mickey (11:15pm): you good?

Mandy (11:15pm): yes

Mickey (11:15pm): sure?

Mandy (11:15pm): YES

Mandy (11:15pm): forget the pickles. I want donuts

Mickey (11:15pm): ain’t your delivery service

Mandy (11:15pm): keep telling yourself that

Mickey felt a little better that her inner bitch was back, but he still had a low level sick feeling about leaving her alone during this shit. It was sort of his fault that she was alone at all since he’d had a hand in Kenyatta’s arrest. Not that he regretted setting the fucker up or stabbing him in the cheek with a broken bottle when he came after him, but it had to be fucking hard to be having a kid and be alone. And tonight, she was literally alone.

Damn it. So he’d bring her donuts and maybe corndogs too. And some fucking pickles. That’s if he made it through the night without being arrested. This whole club thing wasn’t bringing out his law-abiding side, and he was pretty fucking sure he wasn’t going to be up to the task of being Ian’s watchdog much longer.

Mickey spotted red hair coming out of the employee door and moving toward the dance floor. His eyes skimmed the pale body looking for any marks from Asshole. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss what exactly happened, but Mickey didn’t see any evidence of manhandling.

What he did see he appreciated though. He appreciated every single line of Ian’s body, every curve, every shadow. He hadn’t had a chance yet to learn what all that skin felt like, what it tasted like. He didn’t know what it felt like to have sex with Ian or share a bed even. But he knew what it felt like to love him.

Watching him move in front of this room full of men, Mickey could feel the connection as though he were moving with Ian, and he knew that Ian was close to breaking. That it was gonna be a long fucking night of torture for both of them. When the server arrived, Mickey pierced him with a scowl, and the guy rolled his eyes but left. If Ian was gonna do this sober, so was he.

He hadn’t looked at Mickey once, but he knew Ian was aware of him. The way he was turned so that he wasn’t looking directly at Mickey but could still sense him there. They were gonna have to come up with a plan, so this bullshit job had an expiry date—of yesterday.

During the upbeat of the third song, a tall well-dressed guy reached out to slip some cash into Ian’s shorts and Mickey stood up, but the guy kept moving. Ian, however, stopped moving altogether. He stared down at the cash then turned the quarter rotation that brought him in line with Mickey. They looked at each other, and Mickey could see Ian was struggling to keep it together.

The light was reflecting off the smooth pale skin, and the hips that had been rolling smoothly shimmered in the gold shorts. His red hair was swept away from his face and his eyes were highlighted slightly with black make-up making them look bigger and softer than usual. But on the inside, he knew Ian was brittle and way too exposed, and he found this contradiction heartbreakingly beautiful.

Mickey was still standing beside the little round table, waiting for some sign from Ian of what he wanted to do. What he needed from Mickey. Cause whatever it was, he was gonna get it. Ian stepped down of the little stage and before he could finish shrugging, Mickey was there in front of him. They bent their heads together and linked their fingers. “Let’s go,” Ian said. “I’m done.”

“Thank fucking god.” Mickey kissed him on the lips, and they made their way to the employee entrance. “I’ll wait right here.” Ian didn’t let go of his hand until he was part way through the door.

While he waited, he took some deep breaths and massaged his forehead with the heels of his hands to relieve the pressure there. Now they just needed to figure out what to do. Money wasn’t a problem. He had some squirreled away. Getting Ian to accept his help might be the hard part, but nothing seemed difficult now that this dancing albatross was off their back.

The walk to the Matrix was silent. Mickey had lit a smoke for them to share and when they reached the car, they leaned against it to finish it. Ian seemed to be shivering despite the heavy hoodie and jeans he’d changed in to, so Mickey pulled him between his legs, forcing him to lean into his body for warmth.

“Gonna be okay, man.” Mickey said and Ian nodded into his shoulder. “No regrets.”

“Nope. I hated it there, but now that I have you, I just can’t do it anymore.”

Mickey tightened his hold as those words wrapped around his heart, probably sealing it forever in a safe labeled “Ian”.

“So I don’t want to leave you alone tonight,” Mickey began.

Ian pushed away to look at Mickey in surprise. “Oh, right. I forgot about Mandy. Sorry. Yeah, you gotta be with her. I understand.”

Mickey could tell he might understand, but he was also upset at the idea of being alone. “Hey, I was gonna ask if you wanna sleep at my place.”

“Really? Yes, of course. That’s a good idea,” he replied quickly, and Mickey could feel Ian’s shoulders relax. He flicked the butt of his smoke across the tarmac, content that he’d have Ian and Mandy under the same roof where he could keep an eye on them.

 

They made their way up the stairs to Mickey’s apartment, a giant box of donuts leading the way. Once they were inside, Ian looked around then smiled at Mickey, who looked at the place through Ian’s eyes. It looked welcoming and lived in. It looked like a home. A little home, but a home. It took little effort for Mickey to see Ian as part of it.

“Come on,” he grabbed Ian’s hand. After leaving the donuts on the kitchen table, he pulled him into his bedroom and shut the door. “I just gotta send Mandy a text so she knows I’m home.” He quickly did that and when he didn’t hear back, set the phone on the night table.

Ian was standing in the center of his room. He’d taken his hoodie off and set it on top of Mickey’s dresser and was now in a white t-shirt and those jeans. The jeans he’d worn the first night Mickey drove him home. He thought back to that night and how immediate his connection was to Ian even though the redhead was on the hot mess express that night. The guy had knocked him on his ass and held a lot of the cards now. Possibly too many.

Their eyes caught and held, and the moonlight sneaking through his blinds illuminated Ian’s shining eyes. That was what Mickey needed to leave all his hesitation behind. Those sweet fucking eyes that reeled him in every time.

The kiss was instantaneous, it started the moment he was close enough to reach Ian’s lips, but it was also quiet and gentle. The chemistry between them was some sort a lust filled affection that Mickey had no idea existed until he met Ian. He was starting to understand how Hallmark stayed in business.

But despite feeling like he was on fire, Mickey wanted to make goddamn sure Ian knew what they were doing and why. He wasn’t some asshole trying to fuck him. Just the opposite, he was willing to stop whenever and wherever Ian needed that line to be. Now, he just needed to figure out where the line was.

So they kissed for a few minutes, sweet kisses with a little tongue. When Ian’s hands found their way under Mickey’s t-shirt and started massaging the skin of his back, he took that cue and pushed Ian’s shirt out of his way too. Their breathing was getting more labored and the kisses a little less gentle.

Breaking the seal of their mouths, Ian lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it behind him. Mickey looked at the skin which had been on display earlier tonight, but this time it made him hard as hell because it was his now. He wasn’t sharing this shit with anyone every again. Yanking his shirt over his head, he returned to Ian’s mouth with the heat from Ian’s chest permeating his own body. He pressed himself into it.

Fuck, he wanted more. They weren’t gonna fuck tonight he knew that, but he needed to feel Ian’s cock, in his hand or his mouth, even just against his body. His hips pushed forward, and Ian’s hand moved to his ass bringing them closer. Sucking on Ian’s lower lip, he pulled away to kiss his jaw and throat. He could hear the effect that was having on Ian, so he sucked a little harder on the skin along the side of his neck. When he heard his name quietly in the room, he turned Ian until his back was facing the bed and slowly walked them in that direction.

Just at they arrived at edge of the mattress, he felt Ian’s hand on the button of his jeans. “Should we take our pants off before we get into bed?” he asked. Mickey looked down at the space between them, at Ian’s hands in such an intimate spot.

“Yeah, man,” he rasped reaching out for Ian’s button. “Fuck.” They got each other’s jeans open, the zippers down, and they watched it all enthralled. Then Ian looked up into Mickey’s eyes with a smile and started pushing his jeans over his hips. That was a sight he was never gonna get tired of seeing.

Mickey stepped back and did the same, kicking aside his jeans and returning to stand in front of Ian. Running his hands along his biceps and over his shoulders, he cupped his face and kissed him hard on the mouth before letting him get on the bed.

In only his boxers, Ian climbed to the middle of the bed until he was laying back on Mickey’s pillow. This had to be the single most arousing thing Mickey had ever seen, and it was made all the more devastating by the way Ian was watching him. Mickey was pretty fucking sure that Ian loved him back. You can’t fake that.

With a knee on the bed, he started moving toward Ian until he was on his hands and knees hovering over his body. Ian lifted his hand to Mickey’s cheek then ran it along his throat and down his chest, stopping at his heart. “It’s beating so hard.”

Mickey placed his hand over Ian’s and looked him in the eye. “As long as it’s beating, Ian, you’ll be safe.”

“I know.” He wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck, so he could lift himself up to place a kiss on the end of his nose. Then he dropped back to the bed. “Why you so far away?”

He cleared that error up quickly. They connected from mouths to hips feeding off the other’s grunts and moans. Mickey was building up some good friction with his thrusting, and Ian encouraged that action by knead the flesh of ass. He’d found his way under Mickey’s boxers and apparently liked what he’d discovered. This just about caused some premature activity on Mickey’s part because he was definitely into Ian being into his ass. Next time. They needed to get to know each other’s body a little first.

Rolling to his side, Mickey made sure Ian came with him, so they could face each other with room to explore. Ian took this cue and pushed Mickey’s boxers down enough to get his hand around his cock. He was sure he made some sort of sound at finally having Ian’s hand on him, but he had no idea what that sound was. Maybe an alien fucking noise. A laugh exploded from his chest and Ian stopped tugging to look at him.

“Sorry, just fucking overwhelmed, man.”

“Tell me about it. You’re like the hottest guy I’ve ever met, and you just beat the fuck of out someone cause they tried to hurt me,” he explained while starting to move his hand up and down. “Yeah, you overwhelm me.” His thumb was making circles around the tip of Mickey’s cock, and he could feel moisture building there. “Why don’t you feel how you overwhelm me?” he added looking down at their hands.

Mickey shimmied out of his boxers first, then Ian lifted his hips enough to free himself too. Before he returned to Ian though he grabbed the bottle of lube from his night stand drawer, then he slid his knee between Ian’s thighs to secure them together. Flicking the lid open on the little bottle, he held it out and Ian brought his palm up. The bottle hit the mattress behind Ian, and Mickey laid his palm against Ian’s, so they could rub their two hands together spreading the lubricant. They watched their hands mingle and twine, slick and sexy as hell. Then they found each other and as their hands moved, their tongues met.

The whole fucking thing was sexy as hell to Mickey, so it didn’t take long for him to feel himself tensing. When it started to happen, he closed his lips around Ian’s tongue sucking it into his mouth, and Ian pulled it out and slid it back in a couple of times. Their eyes opened, and Mickey knew they had an understanding, so he thrust up into Ian’s hand while twisting his fist around Ian. Then he came with Ian’s tongue deep in his mouth. Before the muscles in his thighs and ass relaxed, Ian came too.

They pulled apart enough to breath and recover but stayed close enough to easily touch lips. Which they did several times before Mickey swiped a couple tissues from the box on the night stand. They got themselves wiped up and under the comforter. And that was only a fucking hand job, Mickey marveled.

 

He woke up on his back to soft lips and a wet tongue on his chest. Cracking open his eyes, he noticed it was still dark outside, and he noticed the rough texture of a tongue on his nipple. He smiled at the top of Ian’s head and ran his hands over it.

“How ya doin’ up there?” Ian mumbled around his nipple.

“Um, never better.”

“Good.” He had shifted his attention to biting the flesh of Mickey’s belly.

“How you doin’? Down there?”

In response, he pulled Mickey’s hand away from where it was grasping the back of his head and brought the open palm to his lips. Then he placed it back on his head. “Real good,” he smirked as he returned to concentrating on Mickey’s body, leaving a path of goosebumps behind him.

Eventually he reached his destination, and Mickey closed his eyes intending to feel every movement of Ian’s lips, his tongue, his hand. He wrapped his foot around Ian’s thigh and pulled his leg closer, and just as he was sinking into a kind a blissful oblivion of goosebumps and shallow breathing, he felt fingers slip between his ass cheeks and he nearly came in Ian’s mouth, without giving the guy a warning.

The fingers didn’t penetrate him, but the circular pressure was causing his orgasm to rush at him. Unsure how he was going to let Ian know this in his sudden stupor of pleasure, he felt just the tip of Ian’s finger push inside him and he came. Deep inside Ian’s mouth.

“Jesus,” he sighed.

Ian pulled off and smiled up at him. “I seem to recall you saying you were a religious man.”


	11. Boner Killer

Drag-U-la (1:47am): my Echo is not a fng hotel room

BullDozer (1:47am): sexcapades?

LighteningMcQueen (1:48am): details????????

Drag-U-la (1:48am): looked like my parents

LighteningMcQueen (1:49am): y u gotta do that D

BullDozer (1:49am): r yer parents hot?

Drag-U-la (1:50am): y do i tell u guys anything

 

Mickey opened his eyes to find a small pool of saliva on his pillow case. He pushed his face away from it and wiped his lower lip with his knuckle. For a moment, he considered dropping his head back to the pillow and giving in to sleep again, but then his mind started working. Trying to remember what day it was and what the hell he was supposed to be doing. This was an unfamiliar feeling for him. He never slept too deep and always woke up quickly, ready for whatever was fucking happening. Today, he felt like he’d been knocked unconscious.

Ian.

He flipped onto his back but knew he was alone. Everything they’d done last night came back to him in a rush. Every time one of them had woken up and got on the other. The hand jobs, Ian’s blow job and making out until they drifted back to sleep. Now he was alone.

His phone was on his night table, but the only notification was from the drive group about senior citizens having sex in the back of Drag's car. Dropping it back on the table, he stood up trying to contain the mild panic that was crawling out of his gut. Ian wouldn’t just leave. No way.

With an old pair of sweats on, he headed to the living room and signed loudly when he saw Ian there, slouched on the piece of furniture his sister called home the last few weeks. That good for nothing sibling had her fucking feet in Ian’s lap, and Ian had his hands on them. But when he looked up and caught Mickey standing in the hallway, he straightened up.

They stared at each other until Mickey tilted his head with a tiny nod toward his bedroom, and Ian patted the feet in his lap. Mickey’s eyes shot to his sister who was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open a little. But she lifted her feet so Ian could escape, the iPad on her belly jiggling as she moved.

“I’ll keep looking, Ian,” she said to Ian’s retreating back.

“Thank you,” Ian replied but he hadn’t stopped looking at Mickey. When they were face to face, he got up really close to Mickey. “You look sleepy, we should get you back to bed.”

Mickey nodded. A lot.

“You’re super cute when you’re sleeping,” Ian added smirking, and Mickey thought about the flood from his mouth he’d had to clean up. Real fucking cute. But he felt a hand on his ass as he turned toward his room. Ian must have a thing for droolers.

They just made it through the door before Ian was on him. The redhead’s mouth, his hands, he fucking body all over Mickey. Fuck, he practically picked Mickey up when he wrapped his big hands around Mickey’s thighs pulling them together. The movement pushed them into the edge of the tall dresser knocking some cans of tranny fluid over and sending them to the floor with a crash. They barely noticed cause Mickey was trying to crawl up Ian’s torso, and Ian was trying to turn them toward the bed before someone got hurt.

“Close the fucking door all ready, pregnant woman in the house, losers!”

Mickey’s arm reached out and sent the door crashing into the frame just before Ian flopped him onto the bed then landed on top of him. He was making breakfast out of Mickey’s throat but also mumbling something. Was he talking? Right fucking now?

“Wha?” Mickey moaned trying to get a hand between their bodies to rub at either or both of them.

“What?” His hand found something hard to push into which distracted Ian apparently.

“What? You were fucking yakking.” His other hand was on the back of Ian’s head pulling it away from his neck, so he could get his lips on Ian’s. 

“Oh, I gotta go.” That stopped the kiss before it could start.

“The fuck?” he growled clearly not hearing Ian properly.

“Yeah, I gotta work in a bit and need to stop at home first.”

Mickey stopped all his movements to absorb this information. “I thought something was happening here, man,” he complained, and maybe to some people, it would have sounded like a whine.

“Oh! Sorry, Mickey, I lost my head when I saw you standing there looking all sleepy and cute as fuck.”

“Shut up, I never look cute as fuck,” he grumbled, still dealing with the fact that he was gonna be Ian-less right away.

“Aww, gimme a kiss cause you’re cute as fuck right now. All pouty and sad,” Ian teased him, pulling Mickey’s bottom lip down with his finger tip. Mickey glared at him, and Ian smiled happily, bracing his elbow on the mattress beside Mickey’s head so he could rest his chin in his palm. “Yup, cute as fuck.”

“You really gotta go?”

“I can come back tonight if, you know, you want me to,” Ian offered but his eyes moved away from Mickey’s to watch his hand rubbing circles on Mickey’s belly.

“Ian,” he said and waited until he was looking at him to continue. “I have no intention of ever going to bed without you again.”

Ian’s chin slipped out of his palm hearing that declaration. “Ever?”

“Ever. You got a problem with that?” Mickey sent his eyebrows to about mid-forehead for emphasis, not quite full challenge level but definitely showing some attitude. He knew he was pushing the fucking envelope here cause they really hadn’t known each other long, but he knew what he wanted. Now it was up to Ian.

Ian just shook his head, all purse-lipped smile and soft eyes. Okay, he was on-board. “Let’s go then,” Mickey said pushing Ian out of the way with a hand to his chest.

“No, you stay here. I’m gonna take the train.”

“No, you’re not, man.”

“Mickey, yes, I am. Stay here and talk to Mandy about me,” he added with a full smirk.

“Fine. What the fuck did the two of you get up to this morning?” Mickey was sitting on the edge of the bed watching Ian pull his hoodie over his head. “Or do I want to know? Just tell me no baby pictures got involved.”

“Oh! Baby pictures! That’s a great idea. Next time.” He clapped his hands together and leaned down for a quick kiss. “Should I come here after work at 8:00 or wait for you to get done your shift?”

“Well, let’s go ask Chuckles.”

Mandy’s squeal of delight answered their question.

 

A short time later while working some gel through his hair, Mickey’s dirty thoughts were interrupted by the shrill boner killing voice of his sister.

“Mickey!” she bellowed, and he almost dropped the tube of gel in the toilet. “Get your ass in the kitchen.”

He rinsed off his hands and took one final look at his hair. She better have some fucking food cooking, or he was gonna think twice before picking her up the caramel corn she had asked for. That would show her, he told himself.

Happily, he wasn’t gonna have to prove his manhood cause she was standing in front of the stove, one hand resting on the shelf she called a belly and the other hand pushing sausages around a pan. When he entered, she set the flipper down and walked over to him. Then, to his ever-loving horror, put her arms around his neck. First, he didn’t want her arms around his neck and second, the position pushed the baby meat she was packin’ into his gut. But the girl, for all her bony ass frame, was fucking strong and he wasn’t getting away, so he endured it like the fucking champ he was. She finally pulled away, and he lifted his eyebrows in question. This time they were in full challenge position.

“I’m so happy for you. God, you’re in fucking love,” she started rambling happily and returned to the stove. “I made sausage and eggs. You should have seen your fucking face when you walked out and saw Ian. I swear to fucking god I never thought I’d live to see that shit happen.”

Mickey was frozen in place. He suspected he would make the world’s shittiest poker player cause he can’t keep shit from showing up on his face, but the fact that she had seen how he felt about Ian in less that a minute was pretty fucking unnerving.

“Sit down, brother, it’s gonna be okay. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna love him just as much as you.” She was sliding eggs on to their plates. When she set the plate in front of him, she added with cold Milkovich eyes, “But if he fucks around with your heart, I will find a broken bottle and he’ll be less pretty than that last fucker you cut up.”

She sat down and started piling food into her mouth. Absently, he wondered where she put all this food she scarfed down all day cause he looked as thin as usual. “I’ll warn him,” Mickey said feeling a little bit of something he sure as shit wasn’t gonna name.

Mandy smiled hugely and pointed her sausage link at him. “No need. I already did.”

“You what?”

“What do you think we were doing while you snored away in bed this morning?”

“I was afraid to ask.”

“Well, we chatted about all kinds of things. By the way, good job on the heads up that some rando was going to be in the bathroom at the crack of dawn.”

“Oh fuck, sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get to see anything of importance, which was pretty fucking disappointing. I swear it feels like dinosaurs roamed the goddamn earth the last time I got laid.”

“Probably be making a comeback the next you get some.”

“Fuck you, ass wipe. Once I have this kid, I’m going on the prowl.”

“Yeah, right. So what did you and your new girlfriend talk about? Other than how to rub your fucking feet.”

“What’d we talk about other than you, you mean?” she smirked and he narrowed his eyes. “I told him about how you peed the bed until you were eight.”

“I swear to god, Mandy.”

“Oh shut up. As if. He told me he quit dancing and we started looking on-line for jobs.”

Mickey was once again shocked into silence. First, that Ian confided in her and second, that they were already working on a solution. Okay, that’s good. “Find anything?”

“Maybe a few ideas. We’ll apply for a few tonight when he gets here.”

“Um, thanks.”

“Yeah, well, not like I’m doing shit. But you and him gotta put the fucking crib together tomorrow. I mean it, bitch.”

“Fine. We both have the whole day off.” He’d had a look at the instructions for the crib about a month ago and felt the twin emotions of frustration and futility bloom in his chest. That shit looked annoying as fuck and so he’d put it off, but it sounded like a fun activity now. Him and Ian building something together. He smiled.

“Oh god, this is gonna be gag worthy living with you two,” she snarked and got up for more eggs.

 

He spent the night driving around the city, thinking about his boyfriend being naked in his bed when he got home. No amount of chat with the drive group was clearing those thoughts from his brain. Not when they brought him up to speed on the parrot lady who got into the back of Lightening’s LandRover with a parrot on her arm and visited several pawn shops to try to pawn the thing. Not when Dozer got a flat tire and Mickey swung by to take over his fare while he changed the tire. Not when they made plans to meet on Tuesday night for drinks, bullying Mickey into bringing Ian. Each and every thought led back to one thing and one thing only.

Sex.

Lots and lots of fucking sex. He was only gonna be satisfied if he could find a way to have sex while having sex. He wanted it every which way and figured if he was suffering then Ian should be suffering too, so, while pulled over waiting for his next fare, he sent his boyfriend a text telling him he was fucking hard and it was his fault. By that time, Ian was already at his place, probably painting his sister’s damn toenails. Better him than me, he conceded.

Ian responded that he needed proof of this alleged hardness cause he wasn’t buying it. Proof? What the fuck? Like a picture? Was he asking for a dick pic?

Fuck, that made him even harder. Ian wanted a picture to look at while he waited for Mickey, so then Mickey pictured Ian laying on his bed eyeballing Mickey’s dick anticipating his return. While he was contemplating how to go about this, Mandy sent him a text reminding him about her caramel corn. Before he could respond to her, Ian sent a sad face emoji. Then a series of hearts followed by a big red tongue. Jesus. He finally got why people liked emojis.

He toggled back to Mandy to tell her to kiss his ass, then decided to select an emoji to represent that, but Drag popped in to tell them that she was feeling ill and heading home. After all these distractions, he decided that he wasn’t ready to have his naked dick out there in the fucking techno cloud, but that Ian would have to deal with a clothed dick pic.

All the fucking messaging he’d been doing had distracted him from his sex crazed thoughts, so he had to pull one out of his memory bank to get a little action happening again downstairs. This was not a problem. His current favorite was Ian sucking his dick but that quickly morphed into him sucking Ian’s dick and that kind of surprised him cause he’d never been all that interested in sucking dick. He’d done it, of course, he was a gay man after all, but it wasn’t what he was looking for when he went out looking. But now he was imagining going down on Ian, and literally down on his knees, and that shit did the trick in a way none of his other thoughts had all night. He now had a very clear picture of Ian’s cock and it was worthy as hell of being sucked. A lot. So with his mouth kind a watering, he pulled up his phone’s camera and clicked a shot of his hard on straining against the front of his jeans. Glancing at the picture, he noticed that it showed his tensed thighs looking pretty muscular and decided that was hot enough.

Send.

Immediately Mandy replied.

Mandy (10:37pm): I guess I’ll forward that to Ian

Holy shit! Mickey threw his phone onto the passenger seat like it bit him. Well, fuck, now he knew how to kill every boner he ever had in the future: imagine his sister seeing his boner. His phone started vibrating with incoming messages that he was reluctant to check. To say the fucking least. Flipping the phone over, he could see Ian’s name, so he picked it up and opened up his texts.

Red (10:39pm): I’m sorry!!!!

You better fucking bet, he thought. You started this shit.

Red (10:40pm): I promise to suck it all better

He smiled a little at that and his dick responded predictably, then he thought about Mandy and his dick receded. Fucking thing was gonna go on strike. In the end though, Ian won out cause his third text made it all better.

Red (10:42pm): incoming picture

 

 

Mickey entered the apartment just before 3:00am to find Ian and Mandy asleep on the couch like best fucking friends. Their heads were on opposite ends and a lightweight blanket was stretched over them. He was a little astounded that they were already sleeping together, especially on the cramped couch. But Mickey imagined that he'd be able to sleep in cramped conditions with Ian if it meant sleeping with him.

Mandy’s baby books were littering the coffee table along with candy wrappers and the leftover donut dregs. He stood over them and contemplated letting them sleep, but then he remembered the picture Ian had sent. A crotch shot, jeans unzipped. His sister was gonna be sleeping alone the rest of the night.

After performing his hygiene routine in the bathroom, he crouched down in front of Ian and for a second watched him sleep, before running his hand over his forehead and along his hair line until he opened his eyes. Then Mickey got the smile and the eyes he’d been missing all night.

“Hi,” Ian whispered.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time for bed,” he whispered back and kissed him on the lips.

“Get a room,” Mandy whispered. “There’s an empty one just over there.” Her finger accompanied that.

Out of self-preservation, Mickey pretended she wasn’t there. Instead, he watched Ian get up anticipating curling up under the covers with him. He was fucking tired but also wired with sexual energy that needed a place to go before he would be able to sleep.

As they started toward the apartment’s narrow hallway, Mandy called out, “Yeah, better take care of that boner, Mick. Looked painful.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, Mandy. I got it covered,” Ian replied pushing Mickey toward the bedroom to stop any threats of physical violence before they occurred. Ian took a detour to the bathroom and by the time he was finished, Mickey was naked and in bed. Moments later, so was Ian.

He crawled in behind Mickey and shaped his warm body against Mickey’s back, their hands found each other and cuddled too.

“How was your day, dear?” Ian asked.

“Long and painful.”

Ian laughed and it reverberated against Mickey’s back. “I promised Mandy I’d take care of something, so I better get to it.”

“God, don’t mention her. Boner killer,” Mickey snarked but when Ian’s hand circled his dick, it told a different story. “Gonna get her a t-shirt made.”

Ian laughed again, and Mickey relaxed completely. He was warm and comfortable and about to blow his load into the hand of the guy he fucking loved. The guy who was currently using Mickey’s ass to reach his own orgasm if the way he was rubbing himself against it was any indication.

That shit was the stuff of his dreams because Ian was so close to where he wanted him to be. “I was thinking,” Ian panted into his ear, so Mickey twisted toward him a bit. “Maybe we could spend part of tomorrow at my place.”

“Yeah?”

“Where we could have some privacy, you know?”

Mickey did fucking know. He lifted his head to meet Ian’s lips in agreement, then they found that rhythm again. Ian’s hand was working hard to give Mickey the release his dick was demanding, so he reached behind to grab Ian’s ass while Ian sucked on his ear lobe. He panted Mickey’s name a couple of times and that shit sent those fucking electrical currents through his body. He felt the warmth of Ian’s ejaculation on his lower back shortly after.

Yep, Mickey fucking knew. He knew that next time Ian came it would be inside him. 

 


	12. Get a Room

NightRider (9:47am): how’s Drag doing?

LighteningMcQueen (9:49am): Doz n me r checking l8r

BullDozer (9:49am): bring her java

LighteningMcQueen (9:50am): how’s Ian (*_*)

Bulldozer (9:50am): :-* :-* :-*

LighteningMcQueen (9:51am): =P

BullDozer (9:51am): =P~

NightRider (9:53am): ..I.

 

This time when Mickey woke up, his pillow was dry but he noticed a weird tickling on his face. His eyes shot open and collided with Ian’s. Once again, he was taken in by the perfect combination of green and hazel, and he was sure his face must be giving away his feelings for Ian as blatantly as his dick currently was.

“Brought you coffee,” Ian said sitting up on the edge of the bed. Mickey missed having Ian’s face an inch from his, where it belonged.

“Come back here,” he whined, and Ian bent back down to kiss him lightly. But when he pulled away again, Mickey adjusted his pillow against the wall, so he could sit up and take a few swigs of from the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee cup.

“Good morning,” Ian smiled flicking his eyes to the sheet covering Mickey’s lower body. “Want me to take a picture of that?”

Mickey scowled over the rim of the coffee cup, then lifted his middle finger cause it wasn’t currently busy. Ian grabbed it and kissed it.

“You went out for coffee?” he asked between sips.

“Your sister hasn’t been out of the apartment in days. She’s been pretty isolated since getting back from Indiana. So we got her some fresh air and exercise,” Ian explained thoughtfully. Clearly having a project was keeping his boyfriend’s mind off his troubles. “Oh, and there was a help wanted sign in the shop.”

“You gonna make donuts all day? Keep them the hell away from Mandy. She’s turned into a junk food monster.”

“That’ll change once the baby is born,” Ian replied lightly but he frowned a little.

“What, man?” he asked sitting the coffee cup down on the night stand, so he could pull Ian on top of him. With him draped over his chest, he probed for information. “Spit it out.”

“Nothing really. I just don’t know what to do. Like for work. We applied at lots of places yesterday, but none of them seemed like the right one, you know?”

“I guess. It’s not like I’m doing my dream fucking job. Driving Miss Daisy, my ass.”

Ian smiled up at him. “What would you do, Mickey?”

“Work on cars, I guess, instead of drive them.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I probably will. Just haven’t gotten around to figuring that out yet.”

“Same,” Ian nodded and his happy smile returned. “Just haven’t gotten around to figuring it out yet.”

And they both smiled at each other like idiots until Ian reached over for the plate he’d also brought in. “I got you breakfast too.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Bran muffin,” he explained. When Mickey frowned at it, he added, “It’s good for the digestive system.”

What? Now his frown was causing his eyebrows to merge into one big line across his face. Was he talking about--? Jesus, he could feel a tiny bit of a blush hit his cheeks, so he tackled Ian to the bed. They wrestled for a minute until Mickey got the upper hand and pinned Ian to the bed. He slid Ian’s hands above his head, locking them in place, then tightened his naked thighs around Ian’s clothed hips. They were breathing heavily, and he could feel Ian hard beneath his ass. His hips started rocking slowly, and he could feel his front teeth pushing into his lip to stop himself from moaning like a bitch in heat.

Fuck, he didn’t know what to do with himself. His desire for Ian was nearly choking him, so he released the tension on Ian’s arms hoping Ian would do something about it.

“Ian,” he breathed.

Strong arms came around him, flipping him over onto his back. His legs were tight around Ian’s waist, and his mouth was pressed against Ian’s but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. This time, he couldn’t help his moan of frustration.

Ian pushed his right leg away from his waist, so he could get his hand between them to stroke Mickey, which relieved some of the pressure but did nothing for the ache.

“Ian,” he repeated, and he fucking knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t even care in the moment.

“I got ya,” Ian said as he pushed Mickey’s other leg away spreading them open and running hands along his inner thighs before getting his mouth around his erection. This gave him something to concentrate on other than the driving need to get fucked. But Ian knew what he needed. With a hand wrapped around Mickey’s cock, he pulled his mouth off long enough to suck on his finger, then his mouth was back, and his finger was slowly pushing inside Mickey. It was enough for the moment, and Mickey clenched down on it making the most of the brief penetration that he was craving like fucking air.

It was gonna be a long day.

 

They had a plan for their first full day off together. Between bouts of making out, they planned to have breakfast, put a crib together, have a drink with Ian’s friends and end up at his apartment. After checking in on Drag, Mickey was in the shower thinking about the day ahead of them, while Mandy and Ian were making breakfast. He was happily scrubbing himself when the shower curtain fluttered, and a head poked around.

“Hey,” Ian said eyes all over Mickey’s body. “Omelettes are ready.”

All Mickey could do was stand there while the water pounded on his shoulders and ran down his back and legs. What would Ian feel like all wet and pressed against him? He fucking knew that’s what Ian was wondering too. The shower curtain was slowly opening as Ian moved closer. Mickey’s hand reached out and twisted into the front of Ian’s t-shirt preparing to pull him into the shower with him.

“I’m gonna be a bitch on wheels if I have to eat cold omelettes, motherfuckers.”

They pulled apart guiltily, and Mickey flicked the taps off. When he opened the shower curtain, Ian was holding his towel for him. Grinning, he wrapped it around Mickey’s shoulders and pulled him forward for a kiss.

“Don’t make me come in there!”

Ian slipped out to pacify Mandy and he heard her groan, “Why is your shirt wet?”

“Mickey needed help drying off,” Ian explained.

 

Once breakfast was done and Ian was finished probing Mandy for awkward Mickey stories, they were alone in the kitchen and Mickey got up to clear some dishes, but the lure of Ian’s lap was too much for him. He was fully intending to just sit for a second, but once he swung his leg over Ian’s lap and plunked down, he was lost.

Ian got his hands around his ass checks and pulled him close until they fit together perfectly. While Mickey fit their tongues together perfectly and lost his fingers in Ian’s hair.

“Here I found a pict—oh, for fuck sake, get a room.”

Their lips separated and Ian rested his cheek against Mickey’s chest.

“Mickey needed help cleaning up,” Ian explained.

 

They cleared space on the floor of Mandy’s bedroom to start putting the crib together. From their position kneeling on the floor, they looked at the piles of connecting parts and wooden slats they’d arranged around the room. Feeling proud of themselves for the good start they were off to, Ian stretched across the space between them and kissed Mickey on the lips, then returned to his position.

Mickey watched him reading the instruction manual, lips moving a little as he read. His eyes travelled down Ian’s body until they landed on a strip of exposed skin between his jeans and t-shirt. Now Mickey wanted to lick that spot more than anything he’d ever wanted to do in his life. And if he was licking that spot, he should probably continue licking everything else in that general area.

“Well, it says here to locate slat A and…” his voice trailed off as he caught Mickey’s eye over the thick manual, “…and insert it into slot B.” Mickey could see Ian’s throat working.

“Right,” he said crawling toward Ian. “Let me locate slat A then.” He came up to his knees when he reached Ian. “Um, I think I found it.”

“Ya, um, that’s definitely A,” Ian stammered when Mickey’s hand disappeared down the front of his jeans.

“So now we need slot B.” While shaping his fingers around slot A, he lifted the index finger of his other hand to his lips in a thoughtful gesture. “Hm, slot B. What’s it say in the manual?” He plucked the manual out of Ian’s hand and threw it behind him. “Fuck the manual.”

Pushing Ian onto his back, he stretched his body over top of him and once more got his tongue down Ian’s throat. It was becoming a permanent fixture there. Just as he was getting the zipper down on Ian’s jeans, a familiar voice screeched from the doorway.

“Jesus, I didn’t mean my room!” Mandy whined.

But as she was pulling the door closed Ian said, “Mickey needed help finding slat A.”

“Just get the fucking crib together, assholes.” She shut the door behind her but not before Mickey heard her laugh.

Ian was laughing against his mouth and running his hands over Mickey’s back. “So about slot B…” Mickey was more than happy to rewrite the instruction manual. After licking that strip of skin above Ian’s jeans, he got his zipper down and his dick in his mouth in record time. Fuck, it felt good to show Ian, with his mouth, how he felt. Every time his lips moved over the smooth skin, he thought about Ian inside him. Every time his tongue tasted Ian, he thought about all the fucking sex they were going to have. Every time he heard Ian moan, he thought about loving this guy for the rest of their lives.

Eventually, Ian moaned for the last time and Mickey made his way back to Ian’s mouth where they sealed the deal. “Can we nap before we put this crib together?” Ian asked groggily.

Mickey laid beside him, his head resting on Ian’s shoulder. A nap sounded perfect.

 

Once the crib was together, they got themselves ready for their evening out and were waiting at the front door for Mandy who was walking with them part way to the car. Her and Ian had read that going for walk could get the stork to deliver the baby sooner plus Dunkin’ Donuts was on the way. While they waited for Mandy to pee, again, Ian picked up the small stack of photos she had located of Mickey. He was flipping through them, for the twentieth time that day.

“Look at this one,” Ian said shoving it in Mickey’s face. “Holy shit, you were adorable with your baby scowl.” He slipped it into the back of the stack. “And this one! You played baseball?”

“I guess you could say that. Wasn’t exactly the star player.”

“Why not?” Ian asked moving on to the next picture.

“I hated losing. I hated being on a team. I hated being told what the fuck to do. I hated being told I was out. Pissed on second base once cause the ump tried to tell me I was out. Fuckers were gonna remember that I made it to second fucking base.”

Ian tapped the photo against Mickey’s chest. “Well, now you’ve made it to third base.”

Mickey just shook his head at that and was rewarded with an adoring smile.

“And this one, teenage Mickey. Angry, covered in bruises, but still CAF,” Ian smiled down at the picture.

“CAF?”

“Cute. As. Fuck.”

Mickey couldn’t even take offense to this statement because Ian looked so damn happy. He just shook his head one more time, which made Ian smile even harder. The guy seemed to have a thing for Mickey’s crabby side.

When Mandy entered the room this time, the kiss she saw was light and sweet and based in love not lust.

“Come on, lovebirds,” she said pulling the front door open. “I’m sure Mickey needs help walking.”


	13. First Time

NightRider (9:57pm): hey feeling better?

Drag-U-la (9:57pm): yup

NightRider (9:57pm): good

Drag-U-la (9:57pm): whats up

NightRider (9:58pm): nothing

Drag-U-la (9:58pm): whats up

NightRider (9:58pm): Ian

Drag-U-la (9:58pm): mhm gotten serious fast. u love him?

NightRider (9:59pm): maybe

Drag-U-la (9:59pm): that true?

NightRider (9:59pm): no

Drag-U-la (10:00pm): haha didnt think so

NightRider (10:00pm): don’t really know him tho

Drag-U-la (10:00pm): takes time to know someone

NightRider (10:00pm): I guess

Drag-U-la (10:00pm): you worried?

NightRider (10:01pm): kinda

Drag-U-la (10:01pm): about what?

NightRider (10:01pm): dunno

Drag-U-la (10:01pm): that you’ll get hurt? That it wont last?

NightRider (10:02pm): guess so

Drag-U-la (10:02pm): never gonna be a guarantee

NightRider (10:02pm): pouty emoji

Drag-U-la (10:02pm): lol but u can always talk to him

Drag-U-la (10:03pm): start by telling him about yourself

NightRider (10:03pm): ok. thanks mom

Drag-U-la (10:03pm): is it time to have ‘the talk’ son?

NightRider (10:03pm): Dozer beat you to it

Drag-U-la (10:04): no emoji can capture my response to that

 

 

Mickey was watching Ian from across the shit hole he had selected for a drink with Lin and his boyfriend, Colin. Ian hadn’t picked the location for its ambiance but because it was within walking distance to his apartment; he’d waggled his fiery eyebrows at Mickey suggestively when he’d told him that. Mickey wasn’t gonna argue. Anything that got Ian on him quicker sounded like a good fucking plan to him.

After ordering a beer and a Coke from the bartender, he perched on the tall stool to wait and his eyes were drawn to Ian, but what else was new? This time though, it’s wasn’t just because he was horny, his eyes were trying to figure out what had changed and why he felt anxious. When they’d arrived, Ian was happy and still cracking goofy jokes. It had been pretty easy to play pool with Ian’s friends and drink beer, two things that came natural to Mickey. Plus he’d been interested to get a glimpse into Ian’s life. They still hadn’t talked much about their pasts, probably cause they’d only known each other a couple of weeks. It felt like way longer and kind of messed with Mickey’s mind, like maybe they were moving too fast. But he didn’t think he would be able to slow shit down even if he actually wanted to, which he was honest enough with himself to admit he did not.

Crazy as it fucking seemed to him. For the first time in his life, he’d gone from a card caring bachelor with zero interest in any sort of relationship to a fully committed man in a matter of days. His heart started to beat a little faster, and he took his agitation out on his lower lip. Ian's agitation was fucking with his head.

After they had finished two games of pool, they’d had a seat at a booth and Mickey offered to buy a round. From his current position at the bar, he watched Ian lean across the table, his face serious and his hands moving as he spoke to his buddies. Lin sat forward too and pointed his finger at Ian. The dark-skinned man beside Lin placed his hand on Lin’s monster bicep until he lowered his finger. Ian sat back in the seat and crossed his arms. At that point, Mickey pulled out his phone and debated confiding in Mandy, but figured she’d pounce on Ian with questions when they returned home in the morning.

Instead, he sent a message to Drag. She always had her fucking head on straight, but she could also cut the shit quickly. Two qualities he could respect the hell outta. After their back and forth, he slid his phone into his pocket and pulled out some cash to pay for their drinks, all the while thinking about what he should tell Ian about his past. He didn’t want to scare the guy away or make himself look like a dangerous felon, but he also wanted to be honest cause he wanted Ian to be honest. In fact, he wanted to know everything about Ian. Even the shit that he knew was gonna hurt his heart and make him want to fuck something up. Maybe that’s what was nagging at Mickey, that their pasts were gonna cause some sort a riff between them.

He joined them at the table and the conversation turned to funny stories about Ian and his friends that Mickey listened to with half an ear. His attention was on Ian’s hand, which was picking at the in-seam of Mickey’s jeans and on Ian’s leg, which was jiggling manically. His boyfriend was wired with some sort of pent up energy that Mickey knew was gonna need dealt with before they got to his apartment cause they were gonna bang in peace.

As he finished his beer, he gave Ian a little nod toward the front door. Although Ian returned the nod, his eyes kept slipping away from Mickey’s and landing on Lin’s. But without anything being mentioned, they made their exit and immediately lit up a smoke, quiet while they crossed the street into the open field of an elementary school. Alone in the darkened space, Mickey took his hand preparing to do this thing.

“Everything okay, Ian?” he finally asked dreading and praying Ian answered the question without Mickey having to drag it out of him.

“Yes and no,” Ian replied kicking a stick with his sneaker. Then just staring at the ground as he walked.

“Gonna elaborate on that, man?”

Ian laughed a little. “Course I am. I just don’t know where to start.”

“How about with the yes part?” Mickey could now see Ian’s apartment building across the street, so he veered them toward an old swing set in the school’s playground.

“That’s easy. You. You’re the yes part,” he smiled a little as he released Mickey’s hand to sit on one of the swings. “Yes, all the way.”

“That’s good,” Mickey replied taking a seat on the swing beside Ian, then reaching out for his hand again. He was learning that where Ian was concerned, he just needed to always be touching him in some way. “Real good, man. How ‘bout the no part?”

“Ugh, Lin says I should talk to you, so we are both on the same page,” he let out a deep breath but continued to look at his feet making circles in the sand.

“Smart man.”

Ian laughed a little. “Yeah, he’s been a good friend through, um, stuff. Now, he thinks we could both get hurt or something if I keep secrets.”

“So you gonna tell me your secrets?”

“I got a shitty past and I guess you should know about it before we, you know, get anymore involved. Maybe you’ll change your mind.” He rested his cheek on the metal chain and looked Mickey in the eye. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Fuck you, Ian,” he began and got up from his swing. Ian blinked at that but straightened up when Mickey came to stand in front of him. “I’ll go first.”

He reached up for the two swing chains and used the leverage to pull himself up so he could slide his legs through until he landed with a thud in Ian’s lap. The metal was digging into his thighs and he felt precarious as hell, but this was gonna be a fucking Hallmark moment if it killed him in the process.

Ian planted his feet and wrapped an arm around Mickey’s waist, keeping one hand on the swing’s chain to balance them. As Ian’s long legs bent and straightened slightly to move them in a gentle rocking motion, Mickey talked. He told Ian that he had stolen shit, sold drugs, hurt people, even that he’d helped his dad bury a guy once. “Wasn’t lying when I told Asshole that I’d be happy to bury him in Salt Creek,” he finished with a long look at Ian. “You okay with all that? Still wanna be with me?”

“Yeah,” Ian whispered looking at him with his sweet fucking smile.

“You actually heard what I said, man?” he frowned at Ian suspiciously.

“That you’re a ex-thug?” he continued to smile. “Unless someone fucks with me. Then you’ll come out of retirement to fuck them up.”

“Okay, yeah, you heard me.”

With Mickey’s shit settled, silence started to stretch out again until Ian rested his forehead on Mickey’s chest, and he couldn’t take it any longer. “Prostitution, Ian?”

His stomach muscles clenched when Ian nodded and pressed his face into Mickey’s chest. “Basically, yeah. I haven’t even been with a guy, any guy, in almost a year, but before that yeah. Sometimes.” He was mumbling it all into Mickey’s jacket but the gist of it was coming through clearly. “Most of it is a jumble of memories either cause my brain was fired up or I was on something. I was pretty self-destructive, ya know, and it wasn’t hard to find self-destructive ways to use sex.”

Mickey knew that Ian could feel his heart beat picking up at this information, and he hoped Ian knew it wasn’t cause he was upset at him. He was just fucking angry that someone didn’t look out for Ian when he needed it. If he could have met him sooner, maybe things would be different for him. Maybe Mickey would have gotten him out of this life sooner, but maybe not. Maybe Ian’s self-destruction would have ultimately hurt both of them.

All he could do now was make sure Ian knew it was irrelevant to how he felt about him. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, he pulled himself up but couldn’t get his legs through and his foot caught on the chain. “Hey, help me out of this deathtrap, man.”

Ian let out a nervous laugh at Mickey’s attempt to get out of his lap but fit his hands around Mickey’s ass to lift him up and out. Once he was standing, he released his hold just enough that Mickey could slide down his body. “Don’t get any ideas, grabby hands. We got some shit to do first. Come on. We’re in a playground. Let’s have some fucking fun.”

“You wanna play?” Ian sounded surprised but willing.

“Sure. This might actually be the first time I’ve used this equipment for entertainment.”

“Um, what else would you use it for?”

“Don’t ask.”

Mickey led them to the merry-go-round and signaled for Ian to get on, then he grabbed the metal bar and started spinning the disc with as much force as he could muster, watching Ian hang on as he spun around. Once he had it going as fast as it would go, he ran beside it until he could hop on then made his way to the center of the circle where he met Ian.

Stomach swirling from the revolutions, he pressed his thighs into the metal bars to hold himself in place and wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck.  With their chests pressed together and the tips of their noses touching, he took the fucking plunge. “I love you, Ian.”

He pressed his mouth to Ian’s feeling his tension seep out of his body. They kissed until the merry-go-round slowly came to a stop, and Mickey lost count of how many times Ian returned the sentiment.

After a quick pull-up competition on the monkey bars and an awkward ride down the slide that had Ian laughing his fool head off, they made their way toward the apartment. Ian kept bumping shoulders with Mickey, each one a little more forceful than the last.

“What the fuck you playing at, Gallagher?” Mickey narrowed his eyes a little and Ian must of taken that as a challenge cause he plowed into Mickey’s shoulder with enough force to cause him to stumble. “Oh, so you wanna tussle, tough guy? You are going down.”

Out of breath and covered in dead grass, they made their way up to Ian’s apartment now that foreplay was out of the way.

 

 

They stood at the doorway of Ian’s apartment looking around. To Mickey’s mind, every surface of the place looked like a potential location for Ian to fuck him. The double bed was an obvious choice, any number of positions they could get themselves in there. But the couch held a special place in Mickey’s heart as they had their first kiss there. The tiny kitchen table and chairs held some definite possibilities as did the entire floor space right in front of him. The shower sounded like a good place to finish up.

He was deep in thought cataloguing his wish list when Ian’s voice beside him interrupted his thoughts. “You need anything?” he asked.

They turned toward each other and as soon as their eyes met, their hands grabbed at each other’s clothes. It was pretty fucking uncoordinated. Mickey started pushing Ian’s coat over his shoulders while trying to shrug his off but that meant taking his hands off Ian, which he found super hard to do. Then there were shirts to pull over their heads.

“Why do we have all these fucking clothes?” he groused.

Ian was laughing and running his hands over Mickey’s chest while he watched his arms tangle in his t-shirt above his head. “Let me help you with that,” he offered and slid his hands up Mickey’s arms until he reached the shirt then pulled it down until Mickey’s hands were trapped in the material and locked behind his head. Pressing his mouth into Mickey’s, he exerted enough pressure to push them toward the wall causing Ian’s body to collide with his. They smashed their mouths together while their hips rocked into each other. When Ian pulled away for a breath, they inhaled together.

Then Ian ran his hands up and over Mickey’s biceps. “Gonna flex for me again?” he asked leering at Mickey suggestively. Hell yes, he would be happy to and Ian rewarded him by digging his teeth into the tight muscle until electric shocks shot through his body.

“Fuckin’ hell, Ian, get my goddamn clothes off,” he barked. “No more of this foreplay shit, man.”

Releasing his hold on Mickey’s arms, he started tugging at the button and zipper of Mickey’s jeans while Mickey battled the material freeing his arms from his shirt. By the time he was able to lower them, Ian was in his pants, running his palm along his erection and between his legs.

“Okay, yeah, fucking kiss me,” he demanded feeling Ian’s hand cupping his balls and pressing up into him.

“Damn, you’re bossy.”

“Cause you’re too fucking slow, Ian. I’m gonna explode if you don’t get on me.” Ian’s hand disappeared from between his legs to push at his jeans and boxers getting them over his hips. Mickey dropped his hands to help Ian work the offense material down his legs cause he still wasn’t moving fucking fast enough. “Come on, man.”

Once he had Ian’s tongue to occupy his mouth again, he could focus on the feel of Ian’s hands, which were on his ass now kneading the flesh and working their way between his ass checks. When he felt a couple of fingers rub him, he bit down on Ian’s tongue in response.

“Ow!” Ian moaned but didn’t remove his tongue. Maybe because Mickey had it clenched between his lips in anticipation. The fingers were circling and pressing, and he could feel himself moving toward them. How could he get them in his ass faster? Fuck, they needed some lube. He’d put some packets of lube and condoms in his jacket pocket. Where was his fucking jacket? Why was this so fucking hard?

“Get the lube, man,” he barked again.

Ian smiled into the kiss. “I fucking love you so fucking much, Mickey. Now get that sweet ass on the bed.” He concluded with a swat to Mickey’s bare ass, so he scampered over and landed on his hands and knees bouncing a little on the bed. “Cute as fuck, what can I tell you,” Ian snickered at that.

Because Ian was digging around in Mickey’s jacket pocket for supplies, he was gonna let that go again. Plus if Ian found him cute as fuck then maybe he’d get his ass in gear and fill him up, so he wiggled his hips a little in invitation. Ian fumbled with the packets, dropping several of them. “Fuck. Um, how many condoms did you bring?”

“Every fucking one I could find,” he replied in exasperation. “We’re gonna busy. If you ever get your shit together over there, Fumbles.”

“You’d be fumbling too if you had your ass on display begging for a pounding,” Ian retorted finally arriving at the bed.

“If I could pound my own ass, I’d never leave my fucking apartment.”

They both cracked up at that. “Oh my god. I’d love to see that. I’d never leave your apartment either.”

“Gimme that shit. You’re like a fucking sloth.” He grabbed the lube packet and got some on Ian’s hand. “Oh yeah, we’re in fucking business now.”

Ian finally had one of his body parts inside Mickey and it felt fucking good, so he pushed back onto it. “Okay, another finger, man. The plan is to get your dick in there, right? We are on the same page, Ian?”

Now Ian was laughing as hard as he was panting. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking bossy.”

Ripping the edge of the condom packet with his teeth, Mickey let out a groan of frustration as Ian inserted another finger. “Gimme that cock.”

“Yes, sir,” Ian replied and shifted until he was kneeling beside Mickey but still using his fingers to get him ready. He gave Ian a few firm strokes until he felt moisture building on the tip of Ian's dick. He really wanted to lick that up but he wasn’t flexible enough to reach in and was more concerned with what was happening with his ass, so he slid the condom on instead.

“All right, get in there, man.”

“Did I mention that I love you?” Ian asked as he lubed up his dick and shifted into place behind Mickey, sliding in slowly.

“Uh, fuck. I love the shit out of you too, man.” Fuck, did he ever. He bit down on his lower lip as Ian reached his limit so goddamn slowly. The wait for this had felt like a lifetime and as Ian picked up his pace a little, he figured it was worth every painful moment. “Harder, okay?”

Ian had a good grip on his hips and was using it to increase his thrusting. Pleasure was building a little more rapidly than he wanted cause he didn’t want this shit to ever end. “We’re gonna do this again like right after,” he groaned. “Yeah? Ian?”

“Um, fuck. I gotta stop, Mickey.” And he pulled out. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Turn over. I need to see you.”

That sounded like a good plan to Mickey. It meant that he could suck on Ian’s tongue while he ground himself into Ian’s abs to the pace of Ian’s thrusts. All his requirements were being met in spades. Unfortunately, this was only speeding up the end. By the sounds of it, the end was close for Ian too.

When Ian pushed away enough to get his hand around him, he figured the end was here and he gave in to it. He opened his eyes to find Ian’s on him. They rode it out together, panting and sighing and relaxing in sync. Mickey stroked Ian’s hair while they lay immobile but still connected.

“Not bad for our first time,” he commented. “I’m thinking the kitchen chair next.”

“I think we got enough condoms to get it on all over this apartment.”

“Never gonna be enough condoms, man. Never.”


	14. Oh, Baby!

Mandy (7:17am): Hey Mick

Mandy (7:42am): You up? Call me. Yer not picking up.

Mandy (8:01am): Come on Mickey!

Mandy (8:15am): CALL ME FFS MY WATER BROKE

Mandy (8:17am): please pick up

Mandy (8:39am): maybe I’ll call a cab

 

“God, you’re so damn sexy. Fuck.”

Ian had been rambling for the last ten minutes. In fact, he hadn’t shut up since he’d nudged Mickey out of a deep sleep. For the third time. They were back in bed trying to get some shut eye following their visit to various locations around Ian’s apartment. The kitchen chair had started out all sweet and shit with Mickey straddling Ian, but it didn’t take long for Ian to get him up on the table knocking the chair over in the process. The couch was definitely becoming his favorite piece of furniture cause at some point during the almost sleepless night, Ian had crawled back into his lap on that couch, and they’d had a little walk down memory lane. Ian had even suggested they get out the potholders to spice things up, and while they laughed their asses off, Mickey had wondered at how amazing it was that laughing with Ian was second only to sex with Ian.

After falling asleep in exhaustion just before sunrise, Mickey didn’t think he’d be able to get out of bed for a week but turns out all Ian had to do was rub him strategically with what was fast becoming Mickey’s favorite body part and he was up for another round. This time, Ian had pulled Mickey on top of him claiming he had been overworked all night and deserved some relaxation. Mickey had opened one eye and lifted one eyebrow but didn’t have much in the way of evidence to prove him wrong. So here he was riding Ian and listening to all Ian’s thoughts on the matter.

“Oh, baby, you feel so good. God, I could do this all night,” he explained, running his hand over Mickey’s chest stopping to rub his nipples appreciatively. His other hand was stroking Mickey slowly.

“You have been doing it all night.” Mickey smiled down at him as he flexed and relaxed his thigh muscles bracing his palms on Ian’s thighs for support.

“There were a few minutes where I was sleeping, and I have nothing but regrets.” Ian’s panting was starting to pick up speed, and Mickey marvelled that after only one night, he could already detect exactly where Ian was in his stages of arousal. Knowing they only had a few minutes left, he reached forward to pull Ian up to his chest.

“Sit up,” he commanded wrapping his arms around Ian’s shoulders as Ian’s arms came around his waist and his cheek rested on Mickey’s chest. “Yeah.”

This position forced them to slow down, so Ian picked up his monologue, focusing this time on the apparent softness of Mickey’s skin. He shifted from rubbing his cheek against the skin of Mickey’s chest to licking his chest to sucking on his nipple. His eyes flicked up to Mickey’s as he ran his tongue around the little peak. “Mm, and you taste fucking good too.”

The sight of that was surprisingly hot, and Mickey lifted his hand to the back of Ian’s head to hold him in place. He could see the corners of Ian’s mouth turn up in a smile as he murmured “mmm” again, and it vibrated against his nipple causing a tightening in his groin.

“Uh, Ian,” he choked out and his head kind a fell back a little. Ian removed one of his hands from Mickey’s body and used it to leverage himself, so he could buck up into Mickey who was more than happy to meet him thrust for thrust.

As Ian’s teeth dug lightly into his nipple, Mickey got his hand around himself. He knew he was making some crazy fucking sounds at this point, but there were just so many places on his body that felt fucking good. He hoped that Ian was feeling as good as he was.

“Is this what sex is supposed to be like?” Ian asked, looking up at him with his sweet fucking face. “I’m ruined. For life.”

“Same, man.”

Ian hugged him close and Mickey brought both arms up to hold on tightly, next thing he was on his back with Ian’s weight pressing him to the mattress. They shared a few open-mouthed kisses before Ian hooked his arm under Mickey’s knee making more room for his hips. Knowing they were now in the home stretch, Mickey got his hand back on his dick and Ian pulled away a bit.

“I wanna watch,” he breathed. Mickey made a little show of it by rubbing his thumb slowly over the slickness gathered on the tip. Ian was indeed watching closely, so he released his hold to bring the pad of his thumb to Ian’s mouth. When his thumb disappeared between Ian’s lips, he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth imagining he was sucking on something of Ian’s.

With his thumb free, he returned it to the head of his cock one more time, before offering it to Ian who licked it once then leaned down to kiss Mickey. The faint taste combined with Ian’s tongue was the final straw for Mickey, and after two strokes, he was coming all over both of their stomachs. Ian slumped down on top of him with a groan.

Eventually, after a few minutes or years, Ian pushed himself up, so he could look at the stickiness between them. “You’re so fucking messy.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my mess a minute ago.”

“As long as it’s in my mouth, I’m fine with it.”

Opening his eyes at that declaration, Mickey smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.” They had a little staring contest involving lots of words that didn’t need to be said until Ian pushed up to his knees.

“Shower?” Ian suggested patting his thigh lightly. “Then back to your place?”

“Not sure I’ll be able to walk today.”

“Aw, we didn’t take it easy on you,” Ian agreed pushing away until he was standing at the edge of the bed. After discarding the condom into the trash on top of a slew of other used condoms, he bent over Mickey. “Come on. I’ll carry you.”

As he started to slide his arms under Mickey’s legs and torso, two perfectly shaped dark eyebrows suggested that would be a very bad idea. So instead, he grasped both of Mickey’s hands and gently pulled him out of the bed. “I won’t carry you, but I will wash you. All you have to do is stand there, and I’ll take care of the rest. You’re really dirty, and I believe I can do an excellent job of getting you clean.”

When Mickey hobbled a little toward the bathroom, Ian tsked. “Oh, my poor baby. You look so sore. How ‘bout I kiss it better?”

“Yeah, you probably should since you were the one who did this to me. Least you could do.”

Turns out Ian was really good a getting him clean. As Mickey stood under the warm water, Ian lathered up his body running his hands all over him. At some point, Mickey’s head drooped forward and rested against Ian’s shoulder. He felt hands on his scalp, and Ian moved them a little further under the spray. Then those hands rubbed circles in the muscles of his back and eventually cupped his ass lightly massaging him.

Ian’s lips were close to his ear and he whispered, “You love me.” Mickey pressed his lips to Ian’s collarbone. “Simply amazing.”

“Not really, Red.” Then he relaxed into the feel of Ian’s hands again. He might have even fallen asleep for a second until Ian nudged his head away from his shoulder and told him to finish rinsing off and he’d go put some Eggos in the toaster.

Several minutes later, Mickey was towelling off when he heard Ian call to him from the living room. “Hey, Mick? Your phone was in your jacket.” He arrived at the bathroom door holding an iPhone. “I grabbed your jacket off the floor and your phone fell out. Looks like you have some notifications.”

Mandy!

He swiped his way in and found six text messages and fifteen missed calls. All from his sister.

Ian had moved to stand behind him reading over his shoulder and blurting out, “Holy shit! Get dressed. I’m ready to go, so I’ll call her.”

Mickey could hear Ian’s side of the conversation, and he would have thought he was talking to Mandy about the weather cause his tone was so casual and relaxed. But the words confirmed that Mandy’s water had broke around 7:00am and it was now almost 9:00.

Fuck! Two hours she’d been trying to reach him. Shit!

 

The next twenty minutes were a combination of a blur and a frenzy. Mickey made sure the zipper of his jacket, the door handle of the apartment door, and the stairs were all well aware of how frustrated he was. Ian scurried around behind him locking up and detailing everything Mandy told him about how here contractions were still irregular and lasting less than a minute. Therefore, according to Dr Gallagher, she was still in early labor, which meant they had time to get her to the hospital.

“So,” he concluded closing the space behind Mickey until he was practically on his heels. “She’s probably less than 3 cm dilated.”

Because this brought Mickey to halt, Ian smacked into his back. “Okay, just, fuck.” He felt Ian’s arms come around his chest and hold him in place, then his lips touched his ear.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mickey,” he spoke lightly like he was soothing Mandy’s baby. “I was born on the kitchen table of our family home to a drug addict and a drunk, so this will be a piece of cake.”

Mickey had to laugh despite the disturbing picture that kind of painted. “Okay, man,” he replied taking a deep breath and twisting a bit to kiss Ian’s lips in a thank you.

They did eventually make it through the front door of Mickey’s apartment, but the space was dark and empty. “Mandy!” he bellowed.

“In the kitchen.”

She sounded normal, which took about ten pounds of stress off his shoulders by the time he was in the kitchen doorway and he could see for himself how she was doing. Her hair was up in a ponytail which he’d never really seen her do probably cause it made her look 12. She seemed so small. Maybe not as small as when he’d gone to Indiana for her but too small for his liking. She was supposed to fill the room. He glanced at her belly. It was definitely not small.

“You okay?”

“I guess.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that, Mick,” she frowned at him. “You got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I freaked out on your phone. It was a long couple of hours.”

“Why the fuck you sitting on that hard kitchen chair?” he asked. “You look uncomfortable as hell.”

“My water broke, and I don’t know how to turn the damn faucet off.” Now she laughed probably because of the look on his face at that bit of news. Then her hand went to her stomach as she bit down on her lip and sucked in a breath.

Mickey was frozen in place watching her. What the hell was he supposed to do? Damn it, why didn’t he read all the books? How many times was he going to ask himself that question? Before he could ask her what he should do, Ian dropped to his knees in front of her placing a hand on each of her knees. He tilted his head enough to make eye contact with her and then he smiled.

“Breathe, Mandy.” He followed that up with a deep breath of his own, and Mickey watched her chest rise and then fall evenly, while her hands covered the back of Ian’s and squeezed.

Once the contraction passed, Ian looked at Mickey. “You wanna time her contractions?”

“Course. Yeah, I can do that.” Looking at a clock sounded perfect to him.

“You eat or drink anything recently?”

Mandy shook her head and Ian was in motion. He poured her some juice and cut up an apple while ordering Mickey to grab her overnight bag. When the next contraction hit, Mickey glanced at the clock on the microwave and tried really hard to remember what the numbers 10:01 meant. Fuck, this was gonna be a long day.

By the time they were ready to leave the apartment, Mickey had chewed his thumbnail completely down and was trying to chew the thumb itself. He was hovering around the door waiting for Mandy to get finished in the bathroom. They had to time everything around her contractions which according to Mickey’s stellar timekeeping skills had achieved critical mass.

Ian was stuffing a few more towels into Mandy’s bag when he stopped and watched Mickey gnawing on his thumb. He smiled as he dropped the bag at their feet and pulled Mickey’s thumb out of his mouth bringing it to his own mouth. Sucking on it, Ian’s eyes lit up as memory passed between them and sent shivers through Mickey’s body radiating straight from the skin currently being fondled by Ian’s tongue.

“I can’t even find the energy to care if you two fuck right there at the door. I’ll just step over your bodies to get this baby outta me.”

They had to stop once between the apartment and the Matrix while Mandy gritted her teeth and Ian supported her all the while counting down through the contraction. Mickey was reduced to all menial tasks, carrying bags, opening doors, driving. He figured he’d done something fucking amazing in another life to have Ian arrive at this point in their lives.

But amended his decision about past lives when they hit their first traffic snag. Some sort of gridlock.

“Fuck sake,” Mickey muttered craning his neck to see around the delivery truck in front of him. “Why the fuck are we stopping?” He was drumming the steering wheel to the tune of a guitar riff on replay in his mind. Trying to remember the chords was keeping what was about to happen from taking up too much real estate in his brain. He could see his boyfriend and his sister through the rearview mirror. They were sitting in the backseat. Ian was pressed up against the driver’s seat door and Mandy was leaning back into his chest listening to Ian instruct her on how important it was to relax between contractions because she was going to need all her energy to get to the finish line. How the fuck did he know what he was talking about?

And here he was stuck in traffic. Chrissake, he had one fucking job to do, and he was fucking failing at it. Refraining from blowing his horn or his cool, he muttered under his breath about idiots and driver’s licenses.

“It’s bullshit that all these fuckers got driver’s licences. Like this asshole,” he complained giving the finger to the driver of the sedan beside him, which turned out to be an elderly woman. “Shit! Fuck!” When she gave him a double bird and cut him off, he laid on the horn.

“Jesus, Mickey,” Ian laughed. “You’re getting into an altercation with an old lady.”

“She fucking started it,” he mumbled, changing lanes aggressively.

When Mandy let out a long, agonized moan and started to cry a little, he nearly hit the car in front of him. The jerking of the brakes sent all the shit on his dashboard forward into the windshield, and he refused to look through the mirror to see if Mandy was on the floor.

“Sorry.”

Once her contraction was over, Ian poked his head into the front seat. “Hey,” he said running a hand over Mickey’s chest. “You got this.”

“Doesn’t fucking seem like it.” He hated being overwhelmed and out of control, and this shit was way out of his comfort zone. Labor and babies and fucking uteruses.

“You do cause you’re not alone. This isn’t all on you,” he lowered his voice until Mickey had to strain to hear him. “You helped me get my shit together, Mickey.”

“Cause I love you, man.”

“Right, and I love you so let me help you.”

“When you put it that way, I’d be an asshole not to.”

“Exactly,” Ian announced and smacked his lips on Mickey’s cheek. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“But I’m really good at it.”

“You just like to think you are,” Ian countered sitting back in his seat again.

“No,” Mandy added. “He really is good at it.”

“Runs in the family,” Mickey looked at her through the mirror and saw her smile.

“Oh, fuck me. Here comes another one,” she moaned.

“All fucking ready?” Mickey’s voice started to rise but Ian’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“Yeah, that was less than five minutes. Might wanna take a few shortcuts, just in case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Mandy's having a boy or a girl? And what should she name it? If you have any suggestions, I'm happy to hear them; otherwise, I guess it'll be a surprise for everyone, including me. :)


	15. Independence Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, writing this chapter was like giving birth, but it has arrived safely. Thank you for the great name suggestions: I put them all in a bowl and when Mandy was pushing the baby meat out, my daughter picked a name.

 

The gridlock seemed to be an epidemic. They were currently at a standstill, and only moments before Ian had not so subtly told him to find a way to get them to the hospital right fucking now. He booted up the PikUp app and messaged the crew to see if they knew why this part of the city was so fucking jammed. Goddamn Greek parade? Everyone needed a fucking parade these days. He was gonna start an asshole parade where the whole point was to stop traffic just because they fucking could.

Just missing the tail end of an Escalade, Mickey refrained from honking in frustration at the oversized SUV taking up too much room on the road. He figured he might need to invite the guy to his parade. Rather than stop at the upcoming light, he cut the wheel to the right smoothly inserting the Matrix into the flow of traffic then glanced at the iPad screen.

 

 

With a clear plan in place, Mickey felt focused. This he could do, and he could do it like a fucking pro, which was a good thing cause Mandy was moaning in the backseat every three minutes. He might not have read all the books, well any of the books, but he knew that three-minute intervals was the time to panic for real. Pushing the limits of safety, he slid into the right-hand parking lane rather than slow with the traffic in front of him but managed to get back out before hitting a parked minivan.

Ten minutes later, he could see the hospital looming in the distance but knew he had two left hand turns before they’d be in the parking lot. The first light was green, so he zipped around the corner turning onto Michigan, but then he was forced to stop at the red light that would take them into the hospital parking lot. He bet Google Maps would have estimated that it should have taken twice the time it took him. Well, Google Maps didn’t have its pregnant sister announcing from the backseat that she felt like pushing.

“Breathe with me, Mandy,” Ian commanded.

“I can’t. I have to push,” she gritted out.

“Listen to me. Big breath in.”

“Just gonna push once, okay?” she pleaded.

“Breath in. Now.”

Mickey could hear them breathing and felt his own chest expand with them. Big breath, he chanted. The light turned green, and he gauged that he could make the turn before the endless stream of oncoming traffic reached the intersection. “Hang on to her, Ian.”

Finally pulling up in front of the ER doors, he jumped out to open the back door and waited out yet another contraction before helping Ian get Mandy and her belly out of the car. As he passed the bag to Ian, they planned to meet inside once Mickey got the car parked, which of course was a royal pain in the ass. But he decided that the jog to the doors from the Matrix could only be improved by sucking on a cigarette, which he inhaled like oxygen. Flicking it in the general direction of the outdoor ashtray, he entered the hospital glancing around until he spotted Ian standing by a set of double doors.

When he saw Mickey, he pointed at the doors. “She’s through there. You can go in.”

“Oh, right, okay.” But his feet were rooted to the spot. He had been pretty successful in avoiding thinking about what happened from this moment forward. He should a read all those books, dammit.

“Hey,” Ian said moving closer to him, close enough that he could rub his thumb along Mickey’s wrist. “You were fucking amazing, getting us here.”

Mickey was looking at him, but his concentration was on the feel of Ian’s thumb making circles over the sensitive skin of his wrist distracting him from the wave of panic that was threatening to pull him under.

“That was hot,” Ian said under his breath. “When this is all over, I wanna go for a ride in your car.”

“To where?” Mickey asked.

Ian just lifted a single eyebrow.

“Oh! Yeah, okay.”

Ian stepped back and tilted his head toward the doors. “You got this. I already know that you can do anything.” He smiled that smile that made Mickey think he actually could do anything.

Once through the doors, a heavy-set nurse in sheep adorned scrubs led him to Mandy’s room. She was laying on the single bed and dressed in an unflattering blue gown that was open to expose her belly. A second nurse was wrapping a strap of some kind around her middle, and Mandy’s eyes shot to him as he entered. Her faced scrunched up before he could come up with a plan of action.

Fuck, what was he supposed to be doing? He figured whatever it was, it didn’t include hovering at the door like pussy, so he swaggered his way toward the bed putting on his best show of confidence. It had worked in all the other fights he’d been in. Even if it only fooled him, he appeared to be the only one who needed fooling.

She smiled a little as he arrived at the bedside, so Mickey tried to return the look but felt he might have missed it by approximately a mile. Her hand reached out for him tangling in his jacket, and her smile disappeared as she brought their faces close together. “I need—,” he leaned forward digging deep into his soul for the strength to give her whatever she asked for.

“Ian.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. Shit, she wanted him to go ask his boyfriend—that he’d met less than a month ago—to help her have a fucking baby. He could feel equal bursts of elation and horror spike his blood stream.

“Now, Mickey, this baby is about to land in your fucking lap,” she hissed at him releasing his jacket.  “Go! Now!” She tried to kick him with her bare foot, but he stepped out of the way. “Mikhailo!”

Stuffing his thumb into his mouth, he flicked his eyes to the nurse, who nodded at him. “I’d hurry. The doctor is on his way in.”

So he found himself pushing through the double doors and into the waiting area. Ian was leaning against the wall directly in front of him, talking on his phone. When he saw Mickey, he thanked the person on the other end and tapped the screen.

“Got my donut job,” he explained shaking his phone a little before sliding it into his pocket. “What’s up?”

“You apparently.” He shrugged and nudged his nose in discomfort.

“Me?” Ian asked smiling at him. “I don’t think this is the time for, you know, that.”

Mickey let out a welcomed laugh. “You got a one-track mind, man. Not that I’m complaining or anything but, um, Mandy wants you.”

Ian’s eyes opened wide.

“Sorry, you don’t gotta do this, but she’s a little scary so I thought I’d ask.”

“Are you kidding? Yes! Let’s do this,” he grabbed Mickey’s hand on his way through the doors. “I can’t believe she’s letting me do this.”

“Letting you?”

Then they were in the room with her, and the two of them were like long lost lovers separated by a fucking war or something. She grabbed his hand and he rubbed her forehead with his free hand. Mickey remained at the door keeping guard. And definitely not thinking about means of escape.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mandy cooed and pulled Ian closer to her. “If you leave again, I’ll cut Mickey’s balls off.”

“What the fuck? Why my balls?” he huffed out.

“I know first hand how important they are to Ian.”

“They are indeed. I’ve become very attached to them.”

“Not nearly as much as I have,” Mickey muttered.

From there, Mickey got to see way more of his sister than he felt was punishment for all the bad deeds he could ever do in a thousand lifetimes. He heard words that would haunt his dreams until his deathbed, and to his ever-loving horror, some of those words came out of his boyfriend’s mouth, that beautiful, talented wonder that makes Mickey weak in the knees uttering such obscenities as vagina, burning, placenta, for fuck sake. Why? Why was this happening?

The room was a flurry of activity between the doctor who’d sailed in during the main event to put his stamp of approval on the situation, the two nurses and their honorary nurse Ian. Mickey was feeling out of place. That is until Mandy yelled out his name and startled him from his thoughts of sneaking out the door.

He ended up in the role of second in command, holding Mandy’s right hand. Ian was across the bed from him holding her other hand. Time after time, she squeezed the shit out of their hands and then fell back against the bed in exhaustion, only to be seized by the little demon again a minute later.

Each time she tensed up into a ball of fury and punched out a long, agonized groan, he was begging the almighty that she’d deliver the goods. But it seemed like this kid was gonna be a true Milkovich asshole and take its fucking time. Each time she relaxed for a moment, he listened to Ian’s words of encouragement like they were meant for him too.

After about the fiftieth fucking time, she looked like she wasn’t gonna be able to sit up again but up she came and Mickey’s eyes just about popped out of his head when he saw black hair protrude from the area he was trying really hard to pretend didn’t exist. His eyes shot to Ian’s in amazement then back to the baby’s crown.

Then it sucked back into her body and disappeared!

“What the fuck?” he blurted. Mandy looked at him in surprise, but Ian got her attention explaining that it’s normal during crowning for the baby to need a few pushes. Mickey was looking at him like his head needed a few pushes.

After half a dozen more near misses, Mandy actually pushed an entire head out. A head of dark curls that within moments were attached to a little body held firmly in the doctor’s gloved hands. Fucking Independence Day.

The room was quiet for about 3 seconds as they took in the magnitude of a new life form in their midst. Then the kid contorted its face and started hollering demands.

“Jesus, looks like an alien. Must be Kenyatta’s genes.” Mickey’s mind flashed to aliens fucking once again, and in his overwrought state, he wondered if he was ever gonna get that shit out of his head.

Until Mandy punched him in the arm then then glanced down at the baby being placed on her stomach. “Oh, it does.”

“It’s a girl, Mandy,” Ian said in an awestruck voice. “She’s the sweetest alien I’ve ever seen.”

“She is,” Mandy agreed running her fingers over the kid’s wet hair.

The three of them smiled at the purplish crusty wailing creature with a slightly cone shaped head that was about to take over their lives, and they fell in love. Her hands were clenched in impressive fists, and Mickey noted that her tiny thumb was curled appropriately across the center of her index and middle fingers. Some kids, he figured, were just born knowing how to throw a punch. She was gonna make it in this world.

“Who’s cutting the cord?” the doctor asked from behind the safety of his blue mask. He held up a pair of scary looking curved blades and Mandy looked at Mickey, her eyes narrowed and assessing. “Ian,” she said, and Mickey could a kissed her except she was fucking sweaty and had an alien on her belly.

Well, you’d a thought Ian had won the goddamn lottery. He couldn’t get his hands on the scissors fast enough, and Mickey couldn’t close his eyes fast enough. Peeking, he saw the scissors sort a bounced off the cord at his first attempt and Mickey felt his Eggo revisit him. But the second time was the charm. The baby wasn’t gonna be mooching off her mother any longer.

“Okay, we’ll get her cleaned up then you can try getting her to latch on,” the sheep covered nurse explained, and Mickey amended his mooching assessment.  

“In the meantime, we should start pushing the afterbirth out,” the nurse added gently rubbing at Mandy’s belly.

“Oh, fuck,” Mickey was sure he was gonna pass out. “You know, I should, um…” he shoved his thumb in the direction of the doorway.

“Yeah, you should. Thanks Daddy Uncle.”

“Course.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask what her name is?” Mandy asked him, suddenly looking all soft and relaxed like she hadn’t just performed a fucking miracle.

“I was waiting for a formal introduction.”

“Mickey meet Aleksandra.”

“Shut up.”

 

Once he was outside and had a cigarette dangling from his lips, he let himself relax a little. The baby meat survived its first trip, Mandy seemed to be stronger than he imagined a person could be, and his fucking boyfriend was in his element. Flicking some ash to the pavement, he had a vague notion that Ian maybe found his thing. And that thing involved vaginas apparently.

He pulled his phone out knowing the drive group would be hounding him for info.

  

 

Part way through his second smoke, the door opened and his favorite redhead poked his head out, smiling like a fool.

“Holy shit, Mickey. That. Was. Awesome.” He dropped down to the bench beside him.

“It was something.”

“I’m in love.”

“With me, remember me? Mickey?”

Ian turned to him all serious now. “We’ve got about a half hour free while they get Mandy all stitched up.”

“Ian,” he whined.

“Ha ha. So,” he slid a little closer to Mickey. “Wanna go for that ride?” Mickey’s heart might have stopped beating for a moment. His eyes traveled from Ian’s eyes over his slightly parted lips along his throat and chest to his crotch. Then straight back to his eyes.

“As long as you’re driving, man, I’m in.”

 

 

Six weeks later

“Mandy, you finished your shower? Get the buzzer. That’s gonna be Lightening to pick us up,” Mickey shouted his command from his bedroom where he was pulling on a clean shirt. Aleks had left a reminder on his shoulder about why Ian walks around with a goddamn towel over his shoulder all day. Well, Mickey was a risk taker where baby vomit was concerned. He’d pawned her off on Ian for clean up after he’d laughed at Mickey’s annoyed look.

Lightening was picking him and Ian up in his half ton to help them move Ian’s shit from his apartment to a one bedroom down the hall from the one he shared with Mandy. They’d given notice on Ian’s place and got in luck when a place came up for rent in Mickey’s building. Between their constant banging and Aleks’ constant crying, Mickey and Ian needed their own space, but having to drive to Ian’s all the time was getting old. Plus they were maintaining an intricate schedule that involved serious juggling. Ian had gotten Mandy a job selling donuts, so Mickey was getting pretty fucking sick of the sight of day old donuts. But so far they were making shit work, and being close was gonna shave off valuable time.

He and Ian entered the living room at the same time. Even after six weeks, watching Ian jiggle a baby over his shoulder while handing a coffee cup to Mandy had a physical impact on Mickey. He was the piece that brought this whole thing together and made it make sense. He loved that baby as much as Mickey, but there was also a familiarity and confidence that Mickey didn’t possess. He hadn’t dropped Aleks or left her in the car after an outing, but he didn’t have a natural inclination where babies were concerned either.

So Mickey had been working on Ian the last couple of weeks about doing whatever shit he needed to do to make a career out of that. Ian had initially lit up like a fucking light bulb at the suggestion, then quickly shut it down claiming it was a crazy idea. Mickey wasn’t giving up without a fight and seeing him standing in the middle of the living room with Aleks in his arms only confirmed it for him.

A light tapping interrupted his thoughts, and he watched Mandy reach for the doorknob. She swept her freshly washed hair back from her face as the door opened and stared at Lightening like she’d just been struck with actual lightening. Shit, Mickey knew that look. He’d had it on his face a couple of months ago when a wasted stripper had requested a pick up and altered his life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Nicrenkel for having the techno skills of a Jedi warrior. 
> 
> One more chapter, which may take a few days because it's gonna be a long one.


	16. Epilogue: Ian

8 years later

Ian inhaled the scent of motor oil and grease that permeated so much of his life now. He’d heard that in order to smell something, molecules of that thing had to get into your nose, so he imagined molecules of Mickey swirling around in his nose. On the one hand, the idea of that was funny and he felt he should laugh at it, but on the other hand, he sorta felt like he could only survive if molecules of Mickey were not just in his nose but on his lips and hands and body. That sounded so unhealthy that he cringed at himself a little. Could he live a normal, productive life without his husband? He tried to push that thought out of his mind because he’d gotten off the runaway train the minute he’d met Mickey and had no intention of ever getting back on.

Locking the back door of Aleks Auto behind him as he entered the garage, his other senses kicked in as well. The sound of music coming from an old radio. A remake of _Stand by Me_ being belted out by an incredible female voice. The sight of a torso and legs sticking out from under a car. The overalls stained with the motor oil and grease that Ian loved so much.

By his calculations, that left two of his senses: touch and taste.

“You have great legs,” he announced placing one foot on either side of Mickey’s hips. “Especially when they are naked and spread open for me.”

“Mrs. H? When did you get here?” From under the new model SUV came a muffled voice that was quickly followed by a grinning face that rolled smoothly out from beneath the vehicle. “Oh, you’re not Mrs. H.”

“I thought I was the only one around here with a thing for vaginas.”

“I guess I fucking asked for that, didn’t I?” Mickey cringed. “Pass me a rag, man.”

Ian walked over to a tray eyeing the neat arrangement of screwdrivers and wrenches and other tools he probably couldn’t name. The tools of his trade weren’t much different looking actually. He figured there was an analogy in there somewhere between checking the oil in a car and the number of centimetres dilated in an expectant mother. “Lightning gone already?”

“Yeah, his day to pick Aleks up from school.”

“She’s so excited for her birthday party tomorrow.”

“That makes two of you, I’m guessing.”

“So I like dance parties. You should come.”

“Right and be surrounded by a screaming horde of 8-year-old girls and one giant 30-year-old man channeling his inner 8-year-old girl? Um, I’ll pass.”

“Hey, I’m not 30 yet.”

“That’s the part you disagree with? So you ready to give me that ride?”

As he passed the rag to Mickey, he once again straddled the body beneath him sitting down on strong thighs and resting his knees on the cool cement floor of the garage.

Mickey gave him the once over while he scrubbed his hands with the rag working it around each finger in the practiced movement of someone who’d done this daily for several years knowing that nothing was ever truly gonna get them clean. Ian watched the movements and felt again that overwhelming urge to be consumed by Mickey, to use him as shield from not just external forces but Ian’s own internal doubts and anxieties. He seemed capable of withstanding anything by sheer force of will alone.

Ian slid his body up a little higher so he could position himself suggestively, then leaned forward resting his hands on either side of Mickey’s shoulders. The rough texture of the cement pressing into his palms. “How about you give me a ride?”

Their eyes met and held for a moment, but Ian’s slid away moving over Mickey’s lips and throat. “What do you say?” he prompted pressing his ass against the firm body beneath him. This wouldn’t be the first time Ian had bottomed for Mickey. Over the years, he’d used it occasionally as a way to control his mind when anxiety seemed to hold it in a vise. Being penetrated by someone he loved allowed him to lose control, which he hated but also sometimes needed. Sometimes it worked and sometimes Ian slid beneath the surface. He felt himself slipping right now.

Mickey tossed the rag aside and cupped his hands around Ian’s face pulling it down to his. After years of practice, their lips fit well together, and their bodies knew to respond. But before it got anywhere near where it was headed, Mickey released his face and their lips parted.

“You want me to fuck you on the floor of our garage?”

Ian could hear a mixture of humor, doubt and worry in that question, and he could feel some arousal as well. Tucking his face into the bare skin of Mickey’s neck, he mumbled his reply, “I guess so.”

He felt Mickey’s head turn a bit allowing Ian more room to bury himself, so he took advantage of it, nuzzling closer until he could feel the pulse against his lips. He poked his tongue out running it over the heartbeat, and Mickey’s hand slipped beneath his shirt and stroked his spine. With each pass over his back, Ian felt himself relax until he was almost dead weight on Mickey’s chest. Thoughts of needing to be fucked by his husband drifted away.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Mickey murmured into his ear.

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m trying out endearments. Felt like the situation called for one.”

“And you didn’t think “man” would do the trick?”

“Nope, and neither would asshole.”

“Sweetheart’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Gonna answer my question, asshole?”

Ian smiled into the soft skin and let out a breath. “What if I am not ready to deliver a baby on my own?”

“Did the fine state of Illinois decide you were capable last week by giving you your certification?”

“I guess.” He shrugged.

“Who are you to argue with them?”

“What if I freeze up and something goes wrong?”

“Have you ever frozen up during a birth yet?”

“No, but I’ve never been alone.”

“How many babies you seen born? As that doula thing, a nurse and training to be a midwife? Total?”

“51.”

“Egad,” Mickey choked. “So why would you freeze up? If seeing all that didn’t kill you.”

“Cause I doubt myself and panic.”

“Did they train you in what to do if you panic?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you do that?”

“I guess.”

“Your confidence is dazzling.”

“Fuck off.” He bit lightly into the skin against his lips.

“That’s better,” Mickey turned until his lips could touch Ian’s face. “You’re probably gonna have some scary moments, probably gonna freak out once in awhile, have to make some tough decisions. Some of the decisions could even be life and death.”

“Gawd.”

“That makes your job important, man. And when you got moments where you’re having a hard time believing in yourself then I’ll do it for you, okay?” Mickey's thumb was stroking his hipbone just under the waistband of Ian's jeans, right where a stylized letter M was tattooed on Ian's skin. “I fucking believed that you could a helped Mandy have Aleks.”

“That’s cause I read all the books,” he smirked.

“Smart ass. Well, you have literally read them all now. Probably could write one for fuck sake.”

When Ian had entered the garage, he’d been wallowing in self-doubt and needed a physical distraction, something that could overpower the negative thoughts. Turns out what he needed was simply love. Now, he wanted to return the favor.

Slipping a hand between their bodies, he pulled the zipper of Mickey’s overalls down then got his hand under his husband’s t-shirt rubbing up his belly and over his chest once before tugging the overalls down his body. He slid himself down that body too until he could kiss the skin of the slightly exposed belly and open the button and zipper below it.

“Mrs. H is gonna have to wait,” he said giving every one of his senses something to remember.

 

 

6 years later

“Faster!” Ian watched Aleks throw her head back in delight as the merry-go-round spun. Her wild black curls that none of them could contain were out of control from a full day at school and the wind that was whipping through them now. “Come on, Uncle Ian. Put your back into it!”

“What?”

“That’s what Dad says when we’re pumping iron.”

“I think he means use your core.” Ian was definitely using his right now as he pushed the metal bar to keep the ride going at a ridiculous speed.

“Yeah, he talks about that too.”

“If you’re pumping iron then you should be pushing me, Al.”

“I could cuz I’m super strong but it’s no fun to push.”

“Gotcha. Well, I’m gonna jump on now if I have your permission, your highness.”

“Sure, and we’ll hold hands and it’ll feel crazier!”

Ian gave the ride one more good spin as he jumped aboard and made his way to the center where he could grab Aleks’ hands. She kept throwing her head back and howling with laughter, but even a slight movement of Ian’s head made him sick to his stomach. As he watched her, he was taken back to his favorite merry-go-round ride. As much as he adored Aleks and would willingly spin her on this disc until she begged him to stop, none of it compared to one single ride with Mickey.

That ride had changed everything for him. He’d known that Mickey liked him and was willing to help him. He definitely knew that Mickey was sexually attracted to him. In fact, he’d known that the moment he saw him sitting in the club and watching Ian dance but trying to go unnoticed. Ian had kept his eye on the dark-haired man the whole night and could literally feel his gaze across the dance floor. It had been fucking hot and drew Ian in like a magnet. But it wasn’t until he told Mickey about his shitty decisions and regrets and Mickey had responded by telling Ian he loved him that he knew Mickey was really serious.

Hearing those words while spinning around in the night air had freed him. Freed him from who he thought he was, from what he thought was his lot in life, from hating what he thought he’d become. Now, he was spinning again with his daughter/niece as they still jokingly called her. He and Mickey were honorary dads, one step above uncles. And two years ago, Ian had solidified his status when Mandy and Roy, or Lightning as they still called him, had a son and Ian was there to assist the birth officially. They named him Clayton. So he was completely stuck with these Milkoviches from here on in.

He grinned at Aleks as the merry-go-round slowed to a stop. “Um, we should get you home and try to contain that hair. It’s gonna be a knot fest.”

“No touching it! Only Uncle Mickey can get the knots out properly,” she scowled at him suspiciously. “He’s got patience.”

Ian didn’t comment on that.

They started toward the apartment, Ian carrying both of their backpacks. “How was the first day of grade 1? Live up to your expectations?”

“I don’t know. I thought it would be funner. But no one pissed me off.”

“We’ll call it a win then?” Ian chuckled.

“Yup. How about your school? Did anyone piss you off?”

“Not a single person. Another win.”

“Did you help any babies be born today?”

“Nope all reading and writing.”

“No coloring?” she asked in amazement.

“None at all.”

“You must really like babies?”

“I do.”

“Why? Clay is annoying as fudge.” He watched her scowl and transform into Mandy before his eyes.

“I like fudge, Al.”

“Me too, I guess.”

They made their way home hand in hand after stopping at the 7-eleven for slurpees. They were out of grape, which pissed Aleks off, so they decided to try mango peach blaster. It was no grape, but it was tasty. They counted it as a win.

 

 

4 years later

 

Ian finished replying to all the incoming texts confirming the surprise party then moved from the small reception area to the large, open garage. The bay could hold up to four vehicles and the endless assortment of tools and supplies needed to repair and maintain them. Currently, the only vehicle in the place was Mandy’s minivan, which needed an oil change. Roy’s tall frame was half hidden under the raised hood and his deep, lightly accented voice sang about spending six months in a leaky boat.

After spending several years driving together, he and Mickey decided it was time to turn in their PikUp logos and open up their own garage. Mandy and Roy were already married by then, so Mickey and Mandy decided to use the money remaining from the sale of the house. The shop would officially open on Monday morning, so they were spending the weekend getting ready. This afternoon though they were having a surprise party.

The backdoor opened and two dark heads entered the bay. One of them talking a mile a minute and dropping all her r’s, the other one nodding agreeably.

“What’s that?”

“A winch.”

“A witch?”

“Close enough.”

“What’s that?”

“Needle scaler.”

“Why’s it got tentacles?”

“To eat the rust on the car.”

“It eats wust?”

“Sure does.”

“Can I go for a wide on the creeper?”

“Sure, kid, hop on.”

Ian watched them move around the garage slowly checking everything out. Once Aleks was seated on the roller, Ian came to stand across from Mickey, so they could push the little trolley between. Mickey shoved Aleks toward him with the toe of his boot and Ian shoved her back. She held on tightly alternating between yelling faster at them and making vroom noises. If 4-year-olds could be race car drivers, she’d already be a Nascar legend. She lived to go fast.

Eventually she lost interest and hopped off, so she could start pelting Roy with questions.

“Daddy, was it scawy to be on a leaky boat?”

“Yeah, nah it’s a song, love,” he replied traces of his New Zealand childhood in his voice.

“Oh, don’t leaky boats sink?”

“Not if you bail water faster than it fills.”

“That would be so bowing to do for six months, Dad.”

“Sometimes we got no choice, Aroha.”

“Lift me up so I can see.”

He and Mickey had been watching this exchange, but now Ian’s attention was on Mickey. He looked content, like all the things he wanted had been given to him except for the cigarette he was twirling in his hand. Ian pulled him by the hand out the backdoor. They had a few minutes before the place would be crawling with people, so it’d probably be best to get some nicotine in his husband.

Once outside in the fenced area, they leaned side by side against the cement wall of the shop. Taking the lighter from Mickey’s hand, Ian lit it for him then turned so his shoulder was against the wall and he could look at dark hair, pale skin and blue eyes.

“What the fuck you looking at?” Mickey winked at him.

“I used to be on a leaking boat.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m on shore now though.”

 

 

2 years later

 

“Oh my god, come check out the bathroom!” Ian was standing in the huge ass glass enclosed shower when Mickey joined him in the hotel room’s oversized bathroom. He grinned at his soon to be husband through the sparkling clean glass and crooked his index finger at him.

When Mickey just stood there looking at him like he was acting silly, Ian pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it over the top of the shower ledge. It landed on Mickey’s head, and he hooted at his successful slam duck. Mickey pulled the shirt off his head and licked his bottom lip in the slightly exasperated way he had, but his eyes strayed to Ian’s chest.

So Ian removed his jeans and boxers too. They landed beside Mickey on the tiled floor.  

Then he turned to the shower options and hit the “adjustable raindrop shower” knob and warm water cascaded onto his head. After increasing the temperature control a few degrees, he turned his face to the soft spray and ran his hands over his hair, face and chest wondering how long Mickey was gonna stand out there. Well, this was his first time staying in an actual hotel and a nice one at that. He was gonna enjoy every amenity it offered. Even if he had to do it alone.

The second and third knobs turned on the body massage spray, which surprised Ian and he jumped out of the way like he’d been bitten. When he stepped back into the streams of pulsating water, he turned slowly to check out how it would feel pelting each body part. He had to close his eyes a few times in pleasure. Once he’d made a full revolution, he returned his attention to the different knobs and decided on the hand wand option. He pulled the slim silver wand out of its slot and turned the knob, finding several locations on his body that benefited from the pulsating water.

Steam was filling the bathroom and distorting his view of Mickey slightly, but he could still see him standing just outside the shower door chewing on his lower lip and holding Ian’s clothing. This made Ian smile, he’s like a manservant. The cutest damn manservant ever. Replacing the hand wand to its slot, he stepped back under the giant overhead downpour then reached out for the mini shower gel bottle, wondering all the while how long his hot manservant was gonna last out there. It was suspicious that he’d lasted this long.

The shower gel smelled like tart apples as he rubbed it over his torso and arms then down around his ass and thighs. He turned directly toward Mickey as he squirted lime green gel into his palm. Replacing the bottle to the shelf behind him, Ian looked down at himself and imagined not being alone in this shower and sure enough, two seconds thinking about Mickey’s wet body had him ready to go. He looked up through his lashes and gave Mickey his little pursed lip smile that Ian was well aware was Mickey’s favorite cause every single time he did it, it produced a soft Mickey.

Ian twisted his hand around his erection spreading the shower gel while holding Mickey’s gaze and wondering when one of them would blink. Turns out it was Ian cause staring into his soon to be husband’s eyes while jerking off in a fancy ass shower was a little more than he’d bargained for. When he reopened his eyes a few seconds later, Mickey’s eyes had traveled down his body to watch. Ian could feel his muscles tensing and his heart pounding. Combined with the heat of the shower, he was feeling almost lightheaded, so he reached his free hand out to the steamy glass pressing his open palm to the warmed surface. While he increased the speed of his movements, Mickey raised his hand and laid it against the glass mirroring Ian’s hand.

The sight of their hands against the glass was somehow both romantically sweet and heartbreakingly sad. Together but apart. His eyes shot to Mickey’s seeking reassurance and connection. As usual, he got it. Mickey’s love couldn’t be held back by a thin piece of glass, and Ian couldn’t hold back his orgasm.

Mickey was still standing in the same spot when Ian opened his eyes, he was still there when he finished rinsing off and he was still there while he shut off the numerous knobs, so Ian lifted his finger to the glass and drew a heart in the steam. Mickey looked at it and shook his head, then dropped Ian’s clothes on the long sleek counter top returning with a thick white towel.

“Holy shit,” Ian said when he opened the shower door. “You really didn’t want to take a shower, I guess.”

“We got shit to do before our appointment,” he responded vaguely passing Ian the towel.

“You don’t want to dry me off?” Ian pouted a little and watched Mickey close his eyes. He gave his body a cursory swiping then walked past Mickey still damp. “We still got a couple hours, party pooper.”

Exiting the bathroom, his eyes lit on the gigantic bed that took up most of the hotel room. The pristine white sheets and lightweight comforter beckoned him. He flopped down on it rubbing his nakedness against the cool softness and groaning. “Gawd, Mick, you have to try this out. Look! The bed is so wide that only my feet are hanging over. What size of bed is this?” He grabbed one of the fluffy pillows and stuffed it under his head looking across the room at the frowning man leaning against the door jam of the bathroom, arms crossed.

He tried smiling but it faltered a little. This wasn’t like Mickey and dread washed over his body. He’d been weird for several days, and now he wasn’t interested in being near Ian. These kinds of thoughts were like magnets for Ian’s doubts and anxieties causing him to jump to worst case scenarios. Maybe Mickey didn’t want to get married and was having trouble telling Ian, hoping that Ian would take the hint. He sat up, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed while his worries took root in his head and shone from his eyes. “Do you still want to marry me?”

Mickey pushed off the wall and walked toward him. “You know I do, man.”

“Well, you haven’t touched me in days. I thought it was just cause we were busy getting ready for this trip, but we’re definitely not busy right now,” he stopped leaving he rest unsaid.

Pushing himself between Ian’s knees, Mickey rested his hands on his shoulders. “Does it look like I don’t want to touch you?”

Ian was at eye level with the hard length pressing against dark wash jeans. Lifting his hands to palm the ass in those jeans, he laid his cheek against Mickey’s erection. “I don’t understand. Are you waiting until we’re married or something?”

He wrapped his arms around Mickey’s hips and pressed in closer when he felt a hand in his hair. Whatever was going on, Mickey still loved him.

“Something like that. Just trust me, okay?”

“Always.”

 

The Little Wedding Chapel on Freemont Street in Las Vegas was even littler than Ian thought it would be given its name. They arrived a few minutes early dressed in what Mickey declared were matching outfits: grey fitted pants and short sleeve black dress shirts. Standing together in front of the wall size mirror of their hotel room, Ian had assured him that because they were different styles, they were different enough that no one would think they were too matching. Mickey looked doubtful but agreed to leave the room. Ian smiled happily enjoying their matching outfits.

They followed the older couple who ran the place into the little chapel, repeated a few lines, signed a few pieces of paper, exchanged metals bands and handed over their Visa. Twenty minutes later, they were $99 poorer and also married according to the state of Nevada.

After several rounds of rock, paper, scissors they decided on pub style food, and Mickey had to live without a trip to the Heart Attack Grill. Ian decided that a wedding required wine, so they sipped some fancy red, ate steak sandwiches and text out “Surprise, We Eloped” photos to family and friends. They sent a special one to Aleks of the two of them standing in front of a giant flame throwing animatronic praying mantis to add to her bug collection.

By the time they left the pub, it was fully night and time to return to the hotel. Rather than push the button for their floor though, Mickey selected the top floor where the outdoor pool was located. It was dark and deserted, and they removed their shoes and rolled up their pants, so they could sit on the pool ledge facing the lights from the Strip.

“Gotcha a wedding present,” Mickey announced after they’d shared a smoke.

“You hiding it?” he asked looking Mickey up and down. “In your pants maybe?”

“Close.”

“I was gonna buy you a star,” Mickey began staring up at the night sky, and Ian wanted to see it from his perspective, so he squished as close to Mickey as possible. “But turns out you just give some asshole 50 bucks and he sends you a print out saying the star is all yours. Scam, man.”

“Which one were you gonna pick?”

“That one,” he lifted his finger.

“I think that might be a planet.”

“Even better, man.”

“Well, thank you for almost getting me a star for a wedding present. I almost love it,” he laughed and rested his head on his husband's shoulder when Mickey brought their linked fingers to his lips.

“I gotcha something else instead," he said turning his body toward Ian and unbuttoning his black dress shirt. Ian watched each button open and tattooed fingers move on to the next. Once he pushed the final button through, their eyes met and Ian leaned forward to kiss him because he suddenly looked vulnerable.

Ian slipped his hands under the soft cotton fabric moving the shirt out of the way. He’d carved a star into the left side of his chest, its three-dimensional design making it look like a chunk of his flesh was missing. When Ian moved to get a closer look in the dim lighting from the pool, he saw the faint lines inside the star.

“This is what you were hiding from me?” Ian was having trouble formulating thoughts as his fingers traced the letters and numbers. “My star.”

“You like it?” 

“I love it," he answered feeling like the moment needed the significance of the universe. Mickey had chosen to show how important Ian was to him by permanently marking his body. "I wanna get a tattoo while we're here in Vegas.”

They smiled at each other. "But first I wanna have a shower."

 

 

2 months later

 

Ian set his cell phone on the nightstand and looked down at the rumpled sheets of Mickey’s old bed. They were back in it for the night while they babysat Aleks, so Mandy could freak out at some fancy restaurant. Buried among the sheets were a 23-year-old man and a 3-month-old baby girl. Ian watched them sleep for a moment wondering who he loved more, glad he wouldn’t have to choose but suspecting it was the 23-year-old.

He'd just gotten home from a double shift at Dunkin' Donuts. Halfway through the day, Mickey had shown up pushing Aleks in her stroller, and Ian's eyes had almost popped from his head at the sight of him pushing the over sized contraption through the doorway. All his co-workers came out from behind the counter to ooh and aah over the baby, while Ian oohed over his boyfriend. So he'd sent Mickey home with large coffee and a special donut covered in cream cheese icing, chocolate sauce and granulated peanuts.

Even though he's sure it's not his life's work, he enjoys the bakery because he finds the quiet control of decorating donuts calming. The fun is in playing with the food, but there's a structure to the routine that makes him feel grounded and in control. While prepping trays of donuts in the maple drip n dry glaze, he can challenge himself to find efficient ways to complete his work while cracking jokes with his co-workers. Once upon a time, he'd thought he needed the excitement of the club scene to crowd out his thoughts, but now he's learning how to master them. Turns out 700 donuts a day is all it took.

Now Mickey was pushing him to look into some sort of birth related field, and looking down at Aleks, he remembered how the whole time he was helping Mandy, he'd forgotten everything else and focused on the events unfolding. Maybe Mickey was right and Ian could do something significant. He just needed someone to believe in him.

Blue eyes cracked open. “Stalking us?” he whispered.

“Yup.” As Mickey slowly rolled away from the little ball of drool beside him, Ian remembered having his own stalker once upon a time. It had amazed him at the time how quickly he came to trust Mickey; he suspected it had happened immediately even in his drunken state. “How’d she get in here?”

“She’s a Jedi. Used the power of her mind.”

“Or the power of her lungs,” he replied but watched Mickey pick her up carefully cradling her in his arms. They walked silently to Mandy’s bedroom and stood like statues staring down into the crib waiting to see if she’d sleep through the transfer. When it appeared she would, Ian tucked himself behind Mickey wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling and rubbing anywhere he could reach. Mickey let his head dropped back onto Ian's shoulder as his hips rock a little against Ian. The smell of baby soap drifted off of Mickey's skin and Ian felt a wave of tenderness. He started to turn Mickey to face him.

But Aleks started fussing. Mickey stuffed the soother into her mouth and she calmed down. When he removed his hand, the plastic end popped out of her mouth and she started fussing again. This went on for a couple of rounds, so Ian had a seat on the arm-less wooden rocking chair to watch the show. Some time later, Mickey was draped over the edge of the crib, and Ian was starting to nod off when silence reigned for more than a minute.

Mickey tiptoed away from the crib until he was standing in front of Ian yawning. As Ian watched him raise his arms to stretch, he wrapped his hands around Mickey's hips and pulled him forward to straddle him. Settled in his lap with his arms around Ian's neck, he pressed his lips to Ian's a few times while the chair slowly rocked them. Forward and backward they swayed, and Ian suspected that Mickey was falling asleep. He was about to check on his status, when a sleepy voice broke the silence.

“Take me and the baby monitor to bed, Ian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love to Raine_on_me for the lovely IG138 star visual that she created for chapter 6 of this story.
> 
> More Jedi moves by Nicrenkel.
> 
> Thank you everyone who read, left kudos and commented. You kept me going, and I love you all for it.


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